' '  ^lt)9!^!''i§ff'ff**y*'^ 


CLOVER- CHINA.! 


OF  CALIFORNIA 
S  ANGELES 


/^/- 


SOUTH Ef^N  brtANCH 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOfy^l^ 

LiaRARY. 


THE  TOWN  TRAVELLER 


THE 

TOWN    TRAVELLER 


BY 


GEORGE  GISSING 

Author  of  "The  Whirlpool,"  "In  the  Year  of  Jubilee," 
"  The  Unclassed,"  Etc. 


^ 


■     <    >  •  ■■       I  4.,,     J    ,     e  «      ,•   ,    .     . 

,^    f^       ^:.  >      :.  >  J    ■ 

=      )    )        1     ,    >  J 

NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK   A.  STOKES   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


G 


THE  TOWN  TRAVELLER 


CHAPTER  I 

MR   GAMMON   BREAKFASTS   IN   BED. 

Moggie,  the  general,  knocked  at  Mr.  Gammon's 
door,  and  was  answered  by  a  sleepy  "  Hello  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Bubb  wants  to  know  if  you  know  what 
time  it  is,  sir,  'cos  it's  half-past  eight  an'  more." 

"  All  right,"  sounded  cheerfully  from  within. 
"  Any  letters  for  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir — a  'eap." 

"  Bring  'em  up,  and  put  'em  under  the  door.  And 
tell  Mrs,  Bubb  I'll  have  breakfast  in  bed  ;  you  can 
put  it  down  outside  and  shout.  And  I  say,  Moggie, 
ask  somebody  to  run  across  and  get  me  a  Police 
News  —  and  Clippings  —  and  The  Kennel —  under- 
stand ?  Two  eggs.  Moggie,  and  three  rashers 
toasted  crisp — understand?" 

As  the  girl  turned  to  descend,  a  voice  called  to 
her  from  another  room  on  the  same  floor,  a  voice 
very  distinctly  feminine,  rather  shrill,  and  a  trifle 
imperative. 


2  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  Moggie  !     I  want  my  hot  water — sharp." 

"  It  ain't  nine  yet,  miss,"  answered  Moggie,  in  a 
tone  of  remonstrance. 

"  I  know  that — none  of  your  cheek !  If  you  come 
up  here  hollering  at  people's  doors,  how  can  any  one 
sleep  ?  Bring  the  hot  water  at  once,  and  mind  it  is 
hot." 

"  You'll  have  to  wait  till  it  gits  'ot,  miss." 

"  Shall  I  ?  If  it  wasn't  too  much  trouble,  I'd 
come  out  and  smack  your  face  for  you — dirty  little 
wretch ! " 

The  servant — she  was  about  sixteen,  and  no 
dirtier  than  became  her  position — scampered  down 
the  stairs,  burst  into  the  cellar  kitchen,  and  in  a 
high  tearful  wail  complained  to  her  mistress  of  the 
indignity  she  had  suffered.  There  was  no  living  in 
the  house  with  that  Miss  Sparkes,  who  treated 
everybody  like  dirt  under  her  feet.  Smack  her  face, 
would  she  ?  What  next?  And  all  because  she  said 
the  water  would  have  to  be  'otted.  And  Mr.  Gam- 
mon wanted  his  breakfast  in  bed,  and — and — why, 
there  now,  it  had  all  been  drove  out  of  her  mind  by 
that  Miss  Sparkes. 

Mrs.  Bubb,  the  landlady,  was  frying  some  sausages 
for  her  first-floor  lodgers ;  as  usual  at  this  hour,  she 
wore  (presumably  over  some  invisible  clothing)  a 
large  shawl  and  a  petticoat,  her  thin  hair,  black 
streaked  with  grey,  knotted  and  pinned  into  a  ball 
on  the  top  of  her  head.  Here  and  there  about  the 
kitchen  ran  four  children,  who  were  snatching  a  sort 


MR.    GAMMON    BREAKFASTS    IN    BED  3 

of  picnic  breakfast  whilst  they  made  ready  for 
school ;  they  looked  healthy  enough,  and  gabbled, 
laughed,  sang,  without  heed  to  the  elder  folk.  Their 
mother,  healthy  too,  and  with  no  ill-natured  face — a 
slow,  dull,  sluggishly-mirthful  woman  of  a  common 
London  type — heard  Moggie  out,  and  shook  up  the 
sausage  before  replying, 

"  Never  you  mind  Miss  Sparkes.  I'll  give  her  a 
talkin'-to  when  she  comes  down.  What  was  it 
as  Mr.  Gammon  wanted  ?  Breakfast  in  bed  ?  And 
what  else  ? — I  never  did  see  such  a  girl  for  forget- 
ting." 

"  Well,  didn't  I  tell  you  as  my  'ead  had  never 
closed  at  the  top  !  "  urged  Moggie,  in  plaintive  key. 
"  How  can  I  'elp  myself  ?  " 

"  Here  take  them  letters  up  to  him,  and  ask  again ; 
and  if  Miss  Sparkes  says  anything,  don't  give  her 
no  answer — see  ?  Billy,  fill  the  big  kettle  and  put 
it  on  before  you  go.  Sally,  you  ain't  a-goin'  to  school 
without  brushin'  your  'air  ?  Do  see  after  your 
sister,  Janey,  an*  don't  let  her  look  sich  a  slap- 
cabbage. —  Beetrice,  stop  that  'ollerin'  ;  it  fair  mis- 
merises  me !  " 

Having  silently  thrust  five  letters  under  Mr. 
Ganmon's  door.  Moggie  gave  a  very  soft  tap,  and 
half  whispered  a  request  that  the  lodger  would  re- 
peat his  orders.  Mr.  Gammon  did  so,  with  perfect 
good-humour.  As  soon  as  his  voice  had  ceased, 
that  of  Miss  Sparkes  sounded  from  the  neighbour- 
ing bed-room. 


4  THE   TOWN  TRAVELLER 

"Isthat  the  water?" 

For  the  pleasure  of  the  thhig,  Moggie  stood  t6 
listen,  an  angry  grin  on  her  flushed  face. 

"  Moggie  ! — I'll  give  that  little  beast  what  for! — 
Are  you  there  ?  " 

The  girl  made  a  quick  motion  with  both  her  hands, 
as  if  clawing  an  enemy's  face,  then  coughed  loudly 
and  went  away  with  a  sound  of  stamping  on  the 
thinly  carpeted  stairs.  One  minute  later,  Miss 
Sparkes'  door  opened,  and  Miss  Sparkes  herself 
rushed  forth,  a  startling  vision  of  wild  auburn  hair 
about  a  warm  complexion,  and  a  small  brisk  figure 
girded  in  a  flowery  dressing-gown.  She  called  at 
the  full  pitch  of  her  voice  for  Mrs  Bubb. 

"  Do  you  hear  me  ? — Mrs  Bubb  ! — Have  the  kind- 
ness to  send  me  up  my  hot  water  immediately ! 
This  moment,  if  you  please !  " 

There  came  an  answer,  but  not  from  the  landlady. 
It  sounded  so  near  to  Miss  Sparkes  that  she  sprang 
back  into  her  room. 

"  Patience,  Polly !  All  in  good  time,  my  dear. 
Wrong  foot  out  of  bed  this  morning  ?  " 

Her  door  slammed,  and  there  followed  a  lazy 
laugh  from  Mr  Gammon's  chamber. 

In  due  time,  the  can  of  hot  water  was  brought 
up,  and  soon  after  it  came  a  tray  for  Mr  Gammon, 
on  which,  together  with  his  breakfast,  lay  the  three 
newspapers  he  had  bespoken.  Polly  Sparkes, 
throughout  her  leisurely  toilet,  was  moved  to  irrita- 
tion and  curiosity  by  the  sound  of  frequent  laughter 


MR.    GAMMON    BREAKFASTS    IN    BED  5 

on  the  other  side  of  the  party-wall  ;  uproarious 
peals,  long  chucklings  in  a  falsetto  key,  staccato 
bursts  of  mirth. 

"  That's  the  comic  stuff  in  Clippings"  she  said  to 
herself,  with  an  involuntary  grin.  "  What  a  fool  he 
is! — And  why's  he  staying  in  bed  this  morning? 
Got  his  holiday,  I  suppose.  I'd  make  better  use  of 
it  than  that." 

She  came  forth  presently  in  such  light  and  easy 
costume  as  befitted  a  young  lady  of  much  leisure 
on  a  hot  morning  of  June.  Meaning  to  pass  an 
hour  or  two  in  quarrelling  with  Mrs.  Bubb,  she  had 
arrayed  herself  thus  early  with  more  care  than 
usual,  that  her  colours  and  perfumes  might  throw 
contempt  upon  the  draggle-tailed  landlady,  whom, 
by  the  by,  she  had  known  since  her  childhood. 
On  the  landing,  where  she  paused  for  a  moment, 
she  hummed  an  air ;  with  the  foreseen  result  that 
Mr.  Gammon  called  out  to  her. 

"Polly!" 

She  vouchsafed  no  answer. 

"  Miss  Sparkes  !  " 

'*  Well  ?  " 

**  Will  you  come  with  me  to  see  my  bow-wows 
this  fine  day?" 

"  No,  Mr  Gammon,  I  certainly  will  not ! 

"  Thank  you,  Polly.  I  felt  a  bit  afraid  you  might 
say  yes." 

The  tone  was  not  offensive,  whatever  the  words 
might  be,  and  the  laugh  that  came  after  would  have 


6  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

softened  any  repartee,  with  its  undernote  of  good 
humour  and  harmless  gaiety.  Biting  her  lips  to 
preserve  the  dignity  of  silence,  Polly  passed  down- 
stairs. Sunshine  through  a  landing  window  il- 
lumined the  dust  floating  thickly  about  the  stair- 
case, and  heated  the  familiar  blend  of  lodging-house 
smells — the  closeness  of  small  rooms  that  are  never 
cleaned,  the  dry  rot  of  wall-paper,  plaster  and  old 
wood,  the  fustiness  of  clogged  carpets  trodden  thin, 
the  ever-rising  vapours  from  a  sluttish  kitchen. 
As  Moggie  happened  to  be  wiping  down  the  front 
steps,  the  door  stood  open,  affording  a  glimpse  of 
trams  and  omnibuses,  cabs  and  carts,  with  pedes- 
trians bobbing  past  in  endless  variety — the  life  of 
Kennington  Road,  all  dust  and  sweat  under  a  glar- 
ing summer  sun.  To  Miss  Sparkes  a  cheery  and  in- 
viting spectacle  ;  for  the  whole  day  was  before  her, 
to  lounge  or  ramble  until  the  hour  which  summoned 
her  to  the  agreeable  business  of  selling  programmes 
at  a  fashionable  theatre.  The  employment  was 
precarious :  even  with  luck  in  the  way  of  tips  it 
meant  nothing  very  brilliant ;  but  something  had 
happened  lately  which  made  Polly  indifferent  to 
this  view  of  the  matter.  She  had  a  secret,  and  en- 
joyed it  all  the  more  because  it  enabled  her  to 
excite  not  envy  alone,  but  dark  suspicions,  in  the 
people  who  observed  her. 

Mrs.  Bubb,  for  instance — whoso  far  presumed  up- 
on old  acquaintance  as  to  ask  blunt  questions,  and 
offer  homely  advice — plainly  thought  she  was  going 


MR.   GAMMON    BREAKFASTS   IN    BED  ^ 

astray.  It  amused  her  to  encourage  this  miscon- 
ception, and  to  take  offence  on  every  opportunity. 
As  she  went  down  into  the  kitchen,  she  fingered  a 
gold  watch-chain  that  hung  from  her  blouse  to  a  little 
pocket  at  her  waist.  Mrs.  Bubb  would  spy  it  at  once 
and  in  course  of  the  quarrel  about  this  morning's 
hot  water  would  be  sure  to  allude  to  it. 

It  turned  out  one  of  the  finest  frays  Polly  had  ever 
enjoyed,  and  was  still  rich  in  possibilities,  when,  at 
something  past  eleven,  the  kitchen  door  suddenly 
opened,  and  there  entered  Mr.  Gammon, 


CHAPTER  II 

A  MISSING  UNCLE 

He  glanced  at  Mrs.  Bubb,  at  the  disorderly  rem- 
nants of  breakfast  on  the  long  deal  table,  then 
at  Polly,  whose  face  was  crimson  with  the  joy  of 
combat. 

"  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you,  ladies.  Blaze  away  ! 
—if  I  may  so  express  myself.  It  does  a  man  good 
to  see  such  energy  on  a  warm  morning." 

*'  I've  said  all  I'm  a-goin'to  say,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Bubb,  as  she  mopped  her  forehead  with  a  greasy 
apron.  "  I've  warned  her,  that's  all,  and  I  mean 
her  well,  little  as  she  deserves  it. — Now,  you,  Moggie, 
don't  stand  gahpin'  there  ;  git  them  breakfast  things 
washed  up,  can't  you  !  It'll  be  tea-time  again  before 
the  beds  is  made — And  what's  come  to  you  this 
morning?  " 

She  addressed  Mr.  Gammon,  who  had  seated  him- 
self on  a  corner  of  the  table,  as  if  to  watch  and  hsten. 
He  was  a  short,  thickset  man,  with  dark  wiry  hair 
roughened  into  innumerable  curls  and  similar 
whiskers  ending  in  a  clean  razor-line  half-way  down 

the  cheek.     His  eyes  were  blue,  and  had  a  wonder- 

8 


A   MISSING   UNCLE  9 

ing  innocence  which  seemed  partly  the  result  of 
facetious  affectation,  as  also  was  the  peculiar  curve 
of  his  lips,  ever  ready  for  joke  or  laughter.  Yet  the 
broad,  mobile  countenance  had  lines  of  shrewdness 
and  of  strength,  plain  enough  whenever  it  relapsed 
into  gravity,  and  the  rude  shaping  of  jaw  and  chin 
might  have  warned  any  one  disposed  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  man's  good-nature.  He  wore  a  suit  of 
coarse  tweed,  a  brown  bowler  hat,  a  blue  cotton 
shirt  with  white  stock  and  horseshoe  pin,  rough 
brown  leggings,  tan  boots ;  and  in  his  hand  was  a 
dog-whip.  This  costume  signified  that  Mr.  Gammon 
felt  at  leisure,  contrasting  as  strongly  as  possible 
with  the  garb  in  which  he  was  wont  to  go  about  his 
ordinary  business,  that  of  commercial  traveller.  He 
had  a  liking  for  dogs,  and  kept  a  number  of  them 
in  the  back  premises  of  an  inn  at  Dulwich,  whither 
he  usually  repaired  on  Sundays.  When  at  Dulwich, 
Mr.  Gammon  fancied  himself  in  completely  rural 
seclusion ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  shaken  off 
the  dust  of  cities,  that  he  was  far  from  the  clamour 
of  the  crowd,  amid  peace  and  simplicity,  hence  his 
rustic  attire,  in  which  he  was  fond  of  being  photo- 
graphed, with  dogs  about  him.  A  true-born  child 
of  town,  he  would  have  found  the  real  country  quite 
unendurable ;  in  his  doggy  rambles  about  Dulwich 
he  always  preferred  a  northerly  direction,  and  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  sitting  in  the  inn-parlour 
amid  a  group  of  friends  whose  voices  rang  the  purest 
cockney.     Even  in  his  business  he  disliked  engage- 


10  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

ments  which  took  him  far  from  London ;  his  "  spe- 
ciality" (as  he  would  have  said)  was  town  travel,  and 
few  men  had  had  more  varied  experience  in  that 
region  of  enterprise. 

"  I'm  going  to  have  a  look  at  the  bow-wows,"  he 
replied  to  Mrs.  Bubb,  "  Polly  won't  come  with  me. 
Unkind  of  her,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Gammon,"  remarked  the  young  lady  with  a 
severe  glance,  "  I'll  thank  you  not  to  be  so  familiar 
with  my  name.  If  you  don't  know  any  better,  let 
me  tell  you  it's  very  ungentlemanly." 

He  rose,  doffed  his  hat,  bowed  profoundly,  and 
begged  her  pardon  ;  in  acknowledgment  of  which 
Polly  gave  a  toss  of  the  head.  Miss  Sparkes  was 
neither  beautiful  nor  stately,  but  her  appearance  had 
the  sort  of  distinction  which  corresponds  to  these 
qualities  in  the  society  of  Kennington  Road  ;  she 
filled  an  appreciable  space  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Gam- 
mon ;  her  abundance  of  auburn  hair,  her  high  colour, 
her  full  lips  and  excellent  teeth,  her  firmly  developed 
bust,  and  the  freedom  of  her  poses,  (which  always 
appeared  to  challenge  admiration  and  anticipate  im- 
pertinence) had  their  effectiveness  against  a  kitchen 
background,  and  did  not  entirely  lose  it  when 
she  flitted  about  the  stalls  at  the  theatre,  selling 
programmes.  She  was  but  two  and  twenty  ;  Mr. 
Gammon  had  passed  his  fortieth  year.  In  general, 
his  tone  of  intimacy  passed  without  rebuke ;  at 
moments  it  had  seemed  not  unacceptable ;  but 
Polly's  temper  was  notoriously  uncertain,  and  her 


A   MISSING   UNCLE  II 

frankness  never  left  people  in  doubt  as  to  the  pre- 
vailing mood, 

"  Would  you  like  a  little  bull-pup,  Miss  Sparkes  ?  " 
he  pursued,  in  a  conciliatory  tone.  "A  lovely  little 
button-ear  ?  There's  a  new  litter  ;  say  the  word  and 
I'll  bring  you  one." 

"  Thank  you.     I  don't  care  for  dogs." 

"  No?  But  I'm  sure  you  would  if  you  kept  one. 
Now,  I  have  a  cobby  little  fox-terrier;  just  the  dog 
for  a  lady.  No  ?  Or  a  sweet  little  black-and-tan, 
just  turning  fifteen  pounds,  with  a  lovely  neck,  and 
kissing  spots  on  both  cheeks.  I  wouldn't  offer  her 
to  everybody." 

"  Very  good  of  you,"  replied  Miss  Sparkes,  con- 
temptuously. 

"  Why  ain't  you  goin'  to  business  ?  "  asked  the 
landlady. 

"  I'll  tell  you.  We  had  a  little  difference  of  opinion 
yesterday.  The  governors  have  been  disappointed 
about  a  new  line  in  the  fancy  leather.  It  wouldn't 
go,  and  I  told  them  the  reason ;  but  that  wasn't 
good  enough  ;  they  hinted  that  it  was  my  fault.  Of 
course  I  said  nothing  ;  I  never  do  in  such  cases  ; 
but — this  morning  I  had  breakfast  in  bed." 

He  spoke  with  eyes  half-closed  and  an  odd 
vibration  of  the  upper  lips  ;  then  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  You're  an  independent  party,  you  are,"  said 
Mrs.  Bubb,  eyeing  him  with  admiration. 

"  It  was  always  more  than  I  could  do  to  stand  a 
hint  of  that  kind.     Not  so  long  ago  I  used  to  lose 


12  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

my  temper ;  but  I've  taken  pattern  by  Polly — T 
mean  Miss  Sparkes — and  now  I  do  it  quietly.  That 
reminds  me."  His  look  changed  to  seriousness. 
"  Do  you  know  any  one  of  the  name  of  Quodling  ?  " 

Polly,  to  whom  he  spoke,  answered  with  a  dry 
negative. 

"Sure?  Try  and  think  if  you  ever  heard  your 
uncle  speak  of  the  name." 

The  girl's  eyes  fell,  as  if,  for  some  reason,  she  felt 
a  momentary  embarrassment.  It  passed,  but  in  re- 
plying she  looked  away  from  Mr.  Gammon. 

"Quodling?     Never  heard  it — why?" 

"  Why,  there  is  a  man  called  Quodling  who  might 
be  your  uncle's  twin  brother,  he  looks  so  like  him. 
I  caught  sight  of  him  in  the  city,  and  tracked  him 
till  I  got  to  know  his  place  of  business  and  his  name. 
For  a  minute  or  two  I  thought  I'd  found  your 
uncle,  I  really  did.  Gosh  !  I  said  to  myself — there's 
Clover  at  last !  I  wonder  I  didn't  pin  him,  like  a 
bull  terrier.  But,  as  you  know,  I'm  cautious — that's 
how  I've  made  my  fortune,  Polly." 

Miss  Sparkes  neither  observed  the  joke,  nor  re- 
sented the  name ;  she  was  listening  with  a  preoc- 
cupied air. 

"  You'll  never  find  //m,"  said  Mrs.  Bubb,  shaking 
her  head. 

"  Don't  be  so  sure  of  that.  I  sha'n't  lose  sight  of 
this  man  Quodling.  It's  the  strangest  likeness  I 
ever  saw,  and  I  sha'n't  be  satisfied  till  I've  got  to 
know  if  he  has  any  connection  with  the  name  of 


A   MISSING   UNCLE  13 

Clover.  It  ain't  easy  to  get  at,  but  I'll  manage  it 
somehow.  Now,  if  I  had  Polly  to  help  me — I  mean 
Miss  Sparkes." 

With  a  muttering  of  impatience,  the  girl  rose ;  in 
the  same  moment  she  drew  from  her  belt  a  gold 
watch  and  deliberately  consulted  it.  Observing 
this,  Mrs.  Bubb  looked  towards  Mr.  Gammon,  who, 
also  observant,  returned  the  glance. 
-  "  I  sha'n't  want  dinner,"  Polly  remarked,  in  an  off- 
hand way,  as  she  moved  towards  the  door. 

"Going  to  see  Mrs.  Clover?"  Gammon  in- 
quired. 

"  I'm  sick  of  going  there.  It's  always  the  same 
talk." 

"  Wait  till  your  'usband  runs  away  from  you,  and 
stays  away  for  five  years,"  said  Mrs.  Bubb  with  a 
renewal  of  anger,  "  and  then  see  what  yoji  find  to 
talk  about." 

Polly  laughed  and  went  away  humming. 

"  If  it  wasn't  that  I  feel  afraid  for  her,"  continued 
Mrs.  Bubb  in  a  lower  voice,  "  I'd  give  that  young 
woman  notice  to  quit.  Her  cheek's  getting  past 
everything — Did  you  see  her  gold  watch  and  chain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did  ;   where  does  it  come  from  ?  " 

"  That's  more  than  /  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Gammon. 
I  don't  want  to  think  ill  of  the  girl,  but  there's  jolly 
queer  goin's-on.  And  she's  so  brazen  about  it  !  I 
don't  know  what  to  think." 

Gammon  knitted  his  brows  and  gazed  round  the 
kitchen. 


14  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  I  think  Polly's  straight,"  he  observed  at  length. 
"  I  don't  seem  to  notice  anything  wrong  with  her, 
except  her  cheek  and  temper.  She'll  have  to  be 
taken  down  a  peg  one  of  these  days,  but  I  don't 
envy  the  man  that'll  have  the  job.  It  won't  be  me, 
for  certain,"  he  added  with  a  laugh. 

Moggie  came  into  the  room,  bringing  a  telegram. 

"For  me?"  said  Gammon.  "Just  what  I  ex- 
pected." Reading,  he  broadened  his  visage  into  a 
grin  of  infinite  satisfaction.  "  '  Please  explain  ab- 
sence. Hope  nothing  wrong.'  How  kind  of  them, 
ain't  it  !  Yesterday  they  chucked  me  ;  now  they're 
polite.  Reply  paid,  too,  very  considerate.  They 
shall  have  their  reply." 

He  laid  the  blank  form  on  the  table  and  wrote 
upon  it,  in  pencil  ;  every  letter  beautifully  shaped 
in  a  first-rate  commercial  hand. 

"  Go  to  Bath  and  get  your  heads  shaved." 

"  You  ain't  a-goin*  to  send  that !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Bubb,  when  he  had  held  the  message  to  her  for 
perusal. 

"  It'll  do  them  good.  They're  like  Polly — want 
taking  down  a  peg." 

Moggie  ran  off  with  the  paper  to  the  waiting  boy, 
and  Mr.  Gammon  laughed  for  five  minutes  uproar- 
iously. 

"  Would  you  like  a  little  bull-pup,  Mrs.  Bubb  ?  "  he 
asked  at  length. 

"  Not  me,  Mr.  Gammon.  I've  enough  pups  of 
my  own,  thank  you  all  the  same." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   CHINA-SHOP 

Mr.  Gammon  took  his  way  down  Kennington 
Road,  walking  at  a  leisurely  pace,  smiting  his  leg 
with  the  doubled  dog-whip,  and  looking  about  him 
with  his  usual  wide-awake,  contented  air.  He  had 
in  perfection  the  art  of  living  for  the  moment  ;  no 
art  in  his  case,  but  a  natural  characteristic,  for 
which  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  be  grateful.  In- 
deed, it  is  a  common  characteristic  in  the  world  to 
which  Mr.  Gammon  belonged.  He  and  his  like  take 
what  the  heavens  send  them,  grumbling  or  rejoicing, 
but  never  reflecting  upon  their  place  in  the  sum  of 
things.  To  Mr  Gammon,  life  was  a  wonderfully 
simple  matter.  He  had  his  worries  and  his  desires, 
but,  so  long  as  he  suffered  neither  from  headache 
nor  stomach-ache,  these  things  interfered  not  at  all 
with  his  enjoyment  of  a  fine  morning. 

He  was  in  no  hurry  to  make  for  Dulwich  ;  as  he 
walked  along,  his  thoughts  began  to  return  in  a  dif- 
ferent direction,  and,  on  reaching  the  end  of  Upper 
Kennington  Lane,  he  settled  the  matter  by  striking 
^  towards  Vauxhall  Station.     A  short  railway  journey. 


l6  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

and  another  pleasant  saunter,  brought  him  to  a 
street  off  Battersea  Park  Road,  and  to  a  china-shop, 
over  which  stood  the  name  of  Clover. 

In  the  window  hung  a  card,  with  an  inscription 
in  bold  letters — "Glass,  china,  and  every  kind  of 
fashionable  ornament  for  the  table,  for  hire  on 
moderate  terms."  Mr.  Gammon  read  this  with  an 
appreciative  smile,  which,  accompanied  by  a  nod, 
became  a  greeting  to  Mrs.  Clover,  who  was  aware 
of  him  from  within  the  shop.     He  entered. 

"  How  does  it  go?  " 

"  Two  teas  and  a  supper  yesterday.  A  wedding- 
breakfast  this  morning." 

"  Bravo  !  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  You'll  want  a 
bigger  place  before  the  end  of  the  year." 

The  shop  was  well  stocked,  the  window  well  laid 
out  ;  everything  indicated  a  flourishing,  though  as 
yet  a  small  business.  Mrs.  Clover,  a  neat,  comely 
and  active  woman,  with  a  complexion  as  clear  as 
that  of  her  own  best  china,  chatted  vivaciously  with 
the  visitor,  whilst  she  superintended  the  unpacking 
of  a  couple  of  crates  by  a  muscular  youth  and  a 
young  lady  (to  use  the  technical  term),  her  shop 
assistant. 

"Why  are  you  off,  to-day?"  she  inquired  pres- 
ently, after  moving  to  the  doorway  for  more  private 
talk. 

Mr.  Gammon  made  his  explanation,  with  spirit 
and  humour. 

'*  You're  a  queer  man,  if  ever  there  was  one," 


THE   CHINA-SHOP  l7 

Mts.  Clover  remarked,  after  watching  him  for  a 
moment  and  averting  her  eyes  as  soon  as  they  were 
met  by  his.  "You  know  your  own  business  best, 
but  I  should  have  thought — " 

It  was  a  habit  of  hers  to  imply  a  weighty  opinion 
by  suddenly  breaking  off  ;  a  form  of  speech  known 
to  the  grammarians  by  a  word  which  would  have 
astonished  Mrs.  Clover,  Few  women  of  her  class 
'are  prone  to  this  kind  of  emphasis.  Her  friendly 
manner  had  a  quietness,  a  reserve  in  its  cordiality, 
which  suited  well  with  the  frank,  pleasant  features  of 
a  matron  not  yet  past  her  prime. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  replied,  more  submissively 
than  he  was  wont  to  speak.  "  I  shall  do  betternext 
time.     I'm  looking  out  for  a  permanency." 

"  So  you  have  been  for  ten  years,  to  my  knowl- 
edge." 

They  laughed  together.  At  this  point  came  an 
interruption  in  the  shape  of  a  customer  who  drove 
up  in  a  hansom  ;  a  loudly  dressed  woman,  who,  on 
entering  the  shop,  conversed  with  Mrs.  Clover  in 
the  lowest  possible  voice,  and  presently  returned  to 
her  vehicle,  with  uneasy  glances  left  and  right.  Mr. 
Gammon,  who  had  walked  for  some  twenty  yards, 
sauntered  back  to  the  shop,  and  his  friend  met  him 
on  the  threshold. 

"  That's  the  sort,"  she  whispered  with  a  merry 
eye.  "  Six-roomed  'ouse  near  Queen's  Road  Station. 
Wants  things  for  an  at  'ome — tea  spoons  as 
well  —  Couldn't    I     make    it    ninepence    the   two 

2 


l8  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

dozen !  That's  the  kind  of  place  where  there'll 
be  breakages.  But  they  pay  well,  the  breakages 
do." 

"Well,  I  won't  keep  you  now,"  said  Gammon. 
"  I'm  going  to  have  a  peep  at  the  bow-wows.  Could 
I  look  in  after  closing?  " 

Mrs.  Clover  turned  her  head  away,  pretending  to 
observe  the  muscular  youth  within. 

"  Fact  is,"  he  pursued,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
about  Polly." 

"What  about  her?" 

"  Nothing  much.     I'll  tell  you  this  evening." 

Without  more  words,  he  nodded  and  went  off. 
Mrs.  Clover  stood  for  a  moment  with  an  absent  ex- 
pression on  her  comely  face,  then  turned  into  the 
shop  and  gave  the  young  man  in  shirt-sleeves  a  bit 
of  her  mind  about  the  time  he  was  taking  over  his 
work. 

She  was  anything  but  a  bad-tempered  woman. 
Her  rating  had  no  malice  in  it,  and  only  signified 
that  she  could  not  endure  laziness. 

"  Hot,  is  it  ?  Of  course  it's  hot.  What  do  you 
expect  in  July?  You  don't  mind  the  'eat  when 
you're  playing  at  cricket,  I  know." 

"  No,  mum,"  replied  the  young  giant  with  a  grin. 

"  How  many  runs  did  you  make  last  Saturday?  " 

"  Fifty-three,  mum,  and  caught-out." 

"  Then  don't  go  talking  to  me  about  the  heat. 
Finish  that  job  and  run  off  with  this  filter  to  Mrs. 
Cubbins's." 


THE    CHINA-SHOP  I9 

Her  life  had  not  lacked  variety.  Married  at  eight- 
teen,  after  a  month's  courtship,  to  a  man  of  whom 
she  knew  next  to  nothing,  she  lived  for  a  time  in 
Liverpool,  where  her  husband — older  by  ten  years — • 
pursued  various  callings  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
docks.  After  the  birth  of  her  only  child,  a  daughter, 
they  migrated  to  Glasgow  and  struggled  with  great 
poverty  for  several  years.  This  period  was  closed 
tjy  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Mr.  Clover.  He 
did  not  actually  desert  his  wife  and  child  ;  at  reg- 
ular intervals  letters  and  money  arrived  from  him, 
addressed  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Clover's  parents,  who 
kept  a  china-shop  at  Islington  ;  beyond  the  post- 
marks, which  indicated  constant  travel  in  England 
and  abroad,  these  letters,  (always  very  affectionate) 
gave  no  information  as  to  the  writer's  circumstances. 
When  Mrs.  Clover  had  lived  with  her  parents  for 
about  three  years  she  was  summoned  by  her  hus- 
band to  Dulwich,  where  the  man  had  somehow  es- 
tablished himself  as  a  cab  proprietor;  he  explained 
his  wanderings  as  the  result  of  mere  restlessness, 
and  with  this  cold  comfort  Mrs.  Clover  had  to  be 
content.  By  degrees  they  settled  into  a  not  un- 
happy life  ;  the  girl,  Minnie,  was  growing  up  ;  the 
business  might  have  been  worse  ;  everything  seemed 
to  promise  unbroken  domestic  tranquillity ;  when, 
one  fine  day,  Mr.  Clover  was  again  missing.  Again 
he  sent  letters  and  money,  the  former  written  in  a 
strangely  mingled  mood  of  grief  and  hopefulness, 
the  remittance   varying  from  half-a  sovereign   to  a 


20  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

ten-pound  note.  This  time,  the  letters  were  invari- 
ably posted  in  London,  but  in  different  districts. 
Clover  declared  that  he  was  miserable  away  from 
home,  and,  without  offering  any  reason  for  his  be- 
havior, promised  that  he  would  soon  return. 

Six  years  had  since  elapsed.  To  afTord  herself 
occupation,  Mrs.  Clover  went  into  the  glass  and 
china  business,  assisted  by  her  parents'  experience, 
and  by  the  lively  interest  of  her  friend  Mr.  Gammon. 
Minnie  Clover,  a  pretty  and  interesting  girl,  was  now 
employed  at  Dolton's  Potteries.  All  would  have 
been  well,  but  for  the  harassing  mystery  that  dis- 
turbed their  lives.  Clover's  letters  were  still  posted 
in  London ;  money  still  came  from  him,  sometimes 
in  remittances  of  as  much  as  twenty  pounds.  But 
handwriting  and  composition  often  suggested  that 
the  writer  was  either  ill  or  intoxicated.  The  latter 
seemed  not  unlikely,  for  Clover  had  always  inclined 
to  the  bottle.  His  wife  no  longer  distressed  herself. 
The  first  escapade  she  had  forgiven  ;  the  second  es- 
tranged her.  She  had  resolved,  indeed,  that  if  her 
husband  did  again  present  himself,  his  home  should 
not  be  under  her  roof. 

The  shop  closed  at  eight.  At  a  quarter-past,  the 
house-bell  rang  and  a  small  servant  admitted  Mr. 
Gammon,  who  came  along  the  passage  and  into  the 
back  parlour  where  Mrs.  Clover  was  wont  to  sit.  As 
usual  at  this  hour,  her  daughter  was  present.  Minnie 
sat  reading ;  she  rose  for  a  moment  to  greet  the 
visitor,  spoke  a  word  or  two  very  modestly,  even 


THE   CHINA-SHOP  21 

shyly,  and  let  her  eyes  fall  again  upon  the  book. 
Considering  the  warmth  of  the  day,  it  was  not  un- 
natural that  Mr.  Gammon  showed  a  very  red  face, 
shining  with  moisture  ;  but  his  decided  hilarity, 
his  tendency  to  hum  tunes  and  beat  time  with  his 
feet,  his  noisy  laughter  and  expansive  talk  could 
hardly  be  attributed  to  the  same  cause.  Having 
taken  a  seat  near  Minnie,  he  kept  his  look  steadily 
fixed  upon  her,  and  evidently  discoursed  with  a 
view  of  affording  her  amusement.  Not  altogether 
successfully,  it  appeared,  for  the  young  girl — she  was 
but  seventeen — grew  more  and  more  timid,  less  and 
less  able  to  murmur  replies.  She  was  prettier  than 
her  mother  had  ever  been,  and  spoke  with  a  better 
accent.  Her  features  suggested  a  more  delicate 
physical  inheritance  than  Mrs.  Clover's  comeliness 
could  account  for.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she  had 
her  father's  best  traits,  though  Mrs.  Clover  fre- 
quently thanked  goodness  that  in  character  she  by 
no  means  resembled  him. 

Mr.  Gammon  was  in  the  midst  of  a  vivid  descrip- 
tion of  a  rat  hunt,  in  which  a  young  terrier  had  dis- 
played astonishing  mettle,  when  his  hostess  abruptly 
interposed  : 

"  Minnie,  I  wish  you'd  put  your  hat  on  and  run 
round  to  Mrs.  Walker's  for  me.  I'll  give  you  a 
message  when  you're  ready." 

Very  willingly  the  girl  rose  and  left  the  room. 
Mr.  Gammon,  whose  countenance  had  fallen,  turned 
to  the  mother  with  jocose  remonstrance. 


22  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  Now  I  call  that  too  bad  !  What  did  you  want 
to  go  sending  her  away  for?  " 

"  What  does  it  matter?"  was  Mrs.  Clover's  reply, 
uttered  good-humouredly,  but  with  some  impa- 
tience. "  The  child  doesn't  want  to  hear  about 
rats  and  terriers." 

"Child?  /don't  call  her  a  child.  Besides  you'd 
only  to  give  me  a  hint  to  talk  of  something  else," 
He  leaned  forward,  and  softened  his  voice  to  a  note 
of  earnest  entreaty.  "  She  won't  be  long,  will 
she?" 

"  Oh,  I  daresay  not." 

A  light  tap  at  the  door  called  Mrs.  Clover  away. 
She  whispered  outside  with  Minnie  and  returned 
smiling. 

"  Have  you  told  her  to  be  quick  ?  " 

Mrs.  Clover  did  not  answer  the  question.  Sitting 
with  her  arms  on  the  round  table,  she  looked  Mr. 
Gammon  steadily  in  the  face,  and  said  with  decision: 

"  Never  you  come  here  again  after  you've  been  to 
Dulwich !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Never  mind.  I  don't  want  to  have  to  speak 
plainer.     If  ever  I  have  to — " 

Mrs.  Clover  made  her  great  effect  of  the  pregnant 
pause.  The  listener,  who  had  sobered  wonder- 
fully :  sat  gazing  at  her,  his  blue  eyes  comically 
rueful. 

"  She  isn't  coming  back  at  all,"  fell  from  his  lips. 

*'  Of  course  she  isn't." 


THE    CHINA-SHOP  23 

"Well,  I'm  blest  if  I  thought  you  could  be  so 
unkind,  Mrs.  Clover." 

She  was  silent  for  three  ticks  of  the  clock,  an  odd 
hardness  having  come  over  her  face,  then,  flushing 
just  a  little,  as  if  after  an  effort,  she  smiled  again, 
and  spoke  in  her  ordinary  tone. 

"  What  had  you  to  say  about  Polly?" 

"  Polly  ?— Polly  be  hanged  !  I  half  believe  Polly's 
no  better  than  she  should  be." 

The  flush  on  Mrs.  Clover's  face  deepened,  and  she 
spoke  severely. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  such  things?" 

"  I  didn't  mean  to,"  exclaimed  Gammon,  with 
hasty  penitence.  "  Look  here,  I  really  didn't  ;  but 
you  put  me  out.  She  had  some  presents  given  her, 
that's  all." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mrs  Clover.  "  She's  been  here 
to-day — called  this  afternoon." 

"Polly  did?" 

"  Yes,  and  behaved  very  badly,  too.  I  don't  know 
what's  coming  to  the  girl.  If  I  had  a  temper  like 
that,  I'd—" 

What  Mrs.  Clover  would  do,  remained  conjec- 
tural. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  "  remarked  the  other,  laughing. 
"  Trust  Polly  to  take  care  of  herself.  She  cheeked 
you,  did  she  ?  " 

They  discussed  Miss  Sparkes  very  thoroughly. 
There  had  been  a  battle  royal  in  the  afternoon  ;  for 
the  girl  came  only  to  "show  off"  and  make  herself 


24  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

generally  offensive.  Mrs  Clover  desired  to  be 
friendly  with  her  sister's  daughter,  but  would  stand 
no  "cheek,"  and  had  said  so. 

"  Polly's  all  right,"  remarked  Mr,  Gammon  finally. 
"  Don't  you  fret  about  her.  She  ain't  that  kind. 
I  know  'em". 

"  Then  why  did  you  say  just  now- — " 

"Because  you  riled  me,  sending  Minnie  away." 

Again  Mrs.  Clover  reflected,  and  again  she  looked 
her  friend  steadily  in  the  face. 

"  Why  did  you  want  her  to  stay  ?  " 

Mr.  Gammon's  heated  visage  glowed  with  incredi- 
ble fervour.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  shuffled  his 
feet,  and  at  length  burst  out  with — 

"  Well,  I  should  think  you  know.  It  isn't  the  first 
time  I've  showed  it,  I  should  think." 

"  Then  I'm  very  sorry.     I'm  real  sorry." 

The  words  fell  gently  and  one  might  have  thought 
that  Mrs.  Clover  was  softening  the  rejection  of  a 
tender  proposal  made  to  herself. 

"You  mean  it's  no  good?"  said  the  man. 

"  Not  the  least,  not  a  bit.     And  never  could  be." 

Mr.  Gammon  nodded  several  times,  as  if  calculating 
the  force  of  the  blow,  and  nerving  himself  to  bear  it. 

"Well,  if  you  say  it,"  he  replied  at  length.  "I 
suppose  it's  a  fact — but  I  call  it  hard  lines.  Ever 
since  I  was  old  enough  to  think  of  marrying,  I've 
been  looking  out  for  the  right  girl — always  looking 
out;  and  now  I  thought  I'd  found  her — hanged  if 
it  isn't  hard  lines  !     I  could  have  married  scores — 


THE   CHINA-SHOP  2$ 

scores ;  but  do  you  suppose  I'd  have  a  girl  that 
showed  she  was  only  waiting  for  me  to  say  the 
word  ?  Not  me  ! — That's  what  took  me  in  Minnie. 
She's  the  first  of  that  kind  I  ever  knew — the  only 
one.  But,  I  say — do  you  mean  you  won't  let  me 
try?     You  surely  don't  mean  that,  Mrs.  Clover." 

"  Yes,  I  do.     I  mean  just  that,  Mr.  Gammon." 

"  Why  ?  Because  I  haven't  got  a  permanency  ?  " 
-"Oh,  no." 

"  Because  I — because  I  go  to  Dulwich  ?  " 

"No!" 

''  Why  then  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  why,  and  I  don't  know  why,  but 
I  mean  it.  And  what's  more,"  her  eyes  sparkled, 
"  if  ever  you  say  one  such  word  to  Minnie,  you 
never  pass  my  door  again." 

This  seemed  to  take  Mr.  Gammon's  breath  away. 
After  a  rather  long  silence,  he  looked  about  for  his 
hat,  then  for  his  dog-whip. 

"  I'll  say  good-night,  Mrs.  Clover — Hot,  isn't  it? 
Hottest  day  yet — I  say,  you're  not  riled  with  me  ? — 
That's  all  rights     See  you  again  before  long." 

He  did  not  make  straight  for  home,  but  rambled 
in  a  circuit  for  the  next  hour.  When  darkness  had 
fallen,  he  found  himself  again  near  the  china-shop, 
and  paused  for  a  moment  only  by  the  door.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  stood  a  man  who  had 
also  paused  in  a  slow  walk,  and  who  also  looked  to- 
wards the  shop.  But  Mr.  Gammon  went  his  way 
without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  that  dim  figure. 


CHAPTER  IV 

POLLY  AND  MR.  PARISH 

Two  first-rate  quarrels  in  one  day  put  Polly  Sparkes 
into  high  good-humour.  On  leaving  her  aunt's 
house  in  the  afternoon,  she  strolled  into  Battersea 
Park,  and  there  treated  herself  to  tea  and  cakes,  at 
a  little  round  table  in  the  open  air.  Mrs.  Clover, 
though  the  quarrel  was  prolonged  until  four  o'clock, 
had  offered  no  refreshments,  which  seemed  to  Miss 
Sparkes  a  very  gross  instance  of  meanness  and  in- 
hospitality. 

At  a  table  near  to  her  sat   two  girls  for  some 

reason  taking   a  holiday,  who  conversed  in  a  way 

which  proved  them  to  be  "  mantle  hands  " ;  and  Polly 

listened  and  smiled.     Did  she  not  well  remember 

the  day  when  the  poverty  of  home  sent  her  a  little 

girl,   to    be    "trotter"    in    a   workroom?     But    she 

soon  found  her  way  out  of  that.     A  sharp  tongue,  a 

bold  eye,  and  a  brilliant  complexion  helped  her  on, 

step  by  step,  or  jump  by  jump,  till  she  had  found 

much  more  agreeable  ways  of  supporting  herself. 

All  unimpeachable,  for  Polly  was  fiercely  virtuous, 

and  put  a  very  high  value  indeed  upon  such  affeC' 

tions  as  she  had  to  dispose  of. 

26 


POLLY   AND    MR.    PARISH  27 

The  girls  were  appraising  her  costume ;  she  felt 
their  eyes  and  enjoyed  the  envy  in  them.  Her  hat 
with  its  immense  bunch  of  poppies  ;  her  blouse  of 
shot  silk  in  green  and  violet  ;  her  gold  watch  care- 
lessly drawn  out  and  returned  to  its  pocket.  "  Now 
what  do  you  think  I  am  ?  A  real  lady,  I'll  bet ! " 
She  caught  a  whisper  about  her  hair.  Red,  indeed  ! 
Didn't  they  wish  they  had  anything  like  it  !  Polly 
could  have  told  them  that  at  a  ball  she  graced  with 
her  presence  not  long  ago,  her  hair  was  done  up 
with  no  less  than  seventy-two  pins.  Think  of  that ! 
Seventy-two  pins ! 

She  munched  a  cream  tart,  and  turned  her  back 
upon  the  envious  pair. 

Back  to  Kennington  Road  by  omnibus,  riding 
outside,  her  eyes  and  hair  doing  execution  upon  a 
young  man  in  a  very  high  collar,  who  was,  she  saw, 
terribly  tempted  to  address  her,  but  happily  for 
himself,  could  not  pluck  up  courage.  Polly  liked 
to  be  addressed  by  strange  young  men  ;  experience 
had  made  her  so  skilful  in  austere  rebuke. 

She  rested  in  her  bedroom,  as  stuffy  and  disorderly 
a  room  as  could  have  been  found  in  all  Kennington 
Road.  Moggie,  the  general,  was  only  allowed  to 
enter  it  in  the  occupant's  presence  ;  otherwise,  who 
knew  what  prying  and  filching  might  go  on  ?  She 
paid  a  very  low  rent,  thanks  to  Mrs.  Bubb's  good- 
nature;  but  the  strained  relations  between  them 
made  it  possible  that  she  would  have  to  leave,  and 
she  had  been  thinking  to-day  that  she  could  very 


28  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

well  afford  herself  a  room  in  a  better  neighbourhood. 
Not  that,  all  things  considered,  she  desired  to  quit 
this  house  ;  but  Mrs.  Bubb  took  too  much  upon  her- 
self. Mrs.  Bubb  was  the  widow  of  a  police  officer  ; 
one  of  her  children  was  in  the  Police  Orphanage  at 
Twickenham,  and  for  the  support  of  each  of  the 
others  she  received  half-a-crown  a  week.  This,  to 
be  sure,  justified  the  good  woman  in  a  certain  spirit 
of  pride ;  but  when  it  came  to  calling  names,  and 
making  unpleasant  insinuations — !  If  a  young  lady 
cannot  have  a  harmless  and  profitable  secret,  what 
is  the  use  of  being  a  young  lady  ? 

On  the  way  to  her  duties  at  the  theatre,  about 
seven  o'clock,  she  entered  a  little  stationer's  shop  in 
an  obscure  street  and  asked,  with  a  smile,  whether 
any  letter  had  arrived  for  her.  Yes,  there  was  one  ; 
addressed  in  a  careless  hand  to  "  Miss  Robinson." 
This,  in  another  obscure  street  hard  by,  she  opened. 
On  half  a  sheet  of  notepaper  were  printed  with  pen 
and  ink  the  letters  W.  S.  T. — that  was  all.  Polly 
had  no  difificulty  in  interpreting  this  cipher.  She 
tore  up  envelope  and  paper  and  walked  briskly  on. 

There  was  but  a  poor  "  house  "  this  evening  ;  com- 
mission on  programmes  would  amount  to  very  little 
indeed ;  but  the  young  gentleman  with  the  weak 
eyes,  who  came  evening  after  evening,  and  must 
have  seen  the  present  piece  a  hundred  times  or  so, 
gave  her  half-a-crown,  weeping  copiously  from 
nervousness  as  he  touched  her  hand.  He  looked 
about  seventeen,  and  Polly,  who  always  greeted  him 


POLLY   AND    MR.    PARISH  2() 

with  a  smile  of  sportive  condescension,  wondered 
how  his  parents  or  guardians  could  allow  him  to  live 
so  recklessly. 

She  left  half  an  hour  before  the  end  of  the 
performance,  with  a  girl  who  accompanied  her  a 
short  way,  talking  and  laughing  noisily.  Along  the 
crowded  pavement,  they  were  followed  by  a  young 
man  of  whose  proximity  Miss  Sparkes  was  well 
aware,  though  she  seemed  not  to  have  noticed  him ; 
a  slim,  narrow-shouldered,  high-hatted  figure,  with 
the  commonest  of  well-meaning  faces,  set  just  now 
in  a  tremulously  eager,  pursuing  look.  When  Polly's 
companion  made  a  dart  for  an  omnibus,  this  young 
man,  suddenly  red  with  joy,  took  a  quick  step  for- 
ward, and  Polly,  saw  him  beside  her  in  an  attitude 
of  respectful  accost. 

"  Awfully  jolly — to  meet  you  like  this — " 

"Sure  you  haven't  been  waiting?"  she  asked, 
with  good-humour. 

"  Well — I — you  said  you  didn't  mind,  you  know, 
— didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind!"  she  laughed.  "If  you've 
nothing  better  to  do.     There's  my  'bus." 

"  Oh,  I  say  !  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  I  was 
going  to  ask  you  " — he  panted — "  if  you'd  come 
and  have  just  a  little  supper — if  you  wouldn't 
mind—" 

"  Nonsense  !     You  know  you  can't  afford  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can — quite  well.  It  would  be  awfully 
kind  of  you — " 


30  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

Polly  laughed  a  careless  acceptance,  and  they 
pressed  through  the  roaring  traffic  of  cross-ways 
towards  an  electric  glare.  In  a  few  minutes  they 
were  seated  amid  plush  and  marble,  mirrors  and 
gilding,  in  a  savoury  aromatic  atmosphere.  Nothing 
more  delightful  to  Polly,  who  drew  off  her  gloves 
and  made  herself  thoroughly  comfortable,  whilst  the 
young  man — his  name  was  Christopher  Parish — 
nervously  scanned  a  bill  of  fare.  As  his  bearing 
proved,  Mr.  Parish  was  not  quite  at  home  amid  these 
splendours  ;  as  his  voice  and  costume  indicated,  he 
belonged  to  the  great  order  of  minor  clerks,  and 
would  probably  go  dinnerless  on  the  morrow  to  pay 
for  this  evening's  festival.  The  waiter  overawed 
him,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  bungling,  with  anxious 
consultation  of  his  companion's  appetite  he  ordered 
something  the  nature  of  which  was  but  dimly  sug- 
gested to  him  by  its  name.  Having  accomplished 
this  feat,  he  at  once  became  hilarious,  and  began  to 
eat  large  quantities  of  dry  bread. 

Quite  without  false  modesty  in  the  matter  of  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  Polly  made  a  hearty  supper. 
Christopher  ate  without  consciousness  of  what  was 
before  him,  and  talked  ceaselessly  of  his  good 
fortune  in  getting  a  berth  at  Swettenham's — the 
great  house  of  Swettenham  Brothers,  tea  merchants. 

"  An  enormous  place — simply  enormous  !  What 
do  you  think  they  pay  in  rent  ? — three  thousand 
eight  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Could  you  believe 
it?     Three  thousand  eight  hundred  pounds ! — And 


POLLY   AND    MR.    PARISH  3 1 

how  many  people  do  you  think  they  employ  ?  Now 
just  guess,  do  just  make  a  shot  at  it." 

"How  do  I  know?  Two  or  three  hundred,  I 
dessay." 

Christopher's  face  shone  with  triumph. 

"  One  thousand — three  hundred — and  forty-two  ! 
Could  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  dessay,"  Polly  replied,  with  her  mouth 
full. 

"  Enormous — isn't  it  ?  Why  it's  like  a  town  in 
itself !  " 

Had  his  own  name  been  Swettenham,  he  could  hard- 
ly have  shown  more  pride  in  these  figures.  When 
Polly  inquired  how  much  tJiey  made  a  year,  he  was 
unable  to  reply  with  exactitude,  but  the  mere 
thought  of  what  such  a  total  must  be  all  but  over- 
came him.  Personally  he  profited  by  his  connec- 
tion with  the  great  firm  to  the  extent  of  two  pounds 
a  week,  an  advance  of  ten  shillings  on  what  he  had 
hitherto  earned.  And  his  prospects !  Why,  they 
were  limitless.  Once  let  a  fellow  get  into  Swetten- 
ham's  ! — 

"  You're  not  doing  so  bad  for  a  single  man,"  re- 
marked Polly,  with  facetious  malice  in  her  eye. 
"  But  it  won't  run  to  a  supper  like  this  very  often." 

"  Oh — well — not  often  of  course."  His  voice 
quavered  into  sudden  despondency.  "  Just  now 
and  then,  you  know — Have  some  cheese  ?  " 

"  Don't  mind — gorgonzoler." 

He  paid  the   bill  right  bravely,   and  added  six- 


32  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

pence  for  the  waiter — though  it  cost  him  as  great  a 
pang  as  the  wrenching  of  a  double  tooth.  A  rapid 
calculation  told  him  that  he  must  dine  at  the  Aerated 
Bread  Shop  for  several  days  to  come.  Whilst  he 
was  thus  computing,  Polly  drew  out  her  gold  watch. 
It  caught  his  eye  ;  he  stood  transfixed,  and  his 
stare  rose  from  the  watch  to  Polly's  face. 

"Just  after  eleven,"  she  remarked,  airily,  and  be- 
gan to  hum.  Christopher  had  but  a  silver  watch, 
an  heirloom  of  considerable  antiquity  ;  and  the 
chain  was  jet.  Sunk  of  a  sudden  in  profoundest 
gloom,  he  led  the  way  to  the  exit,  walking  like  a 
shame-faced  plebeian  who  had  got  into  the  room  by 
mistake.  Polly's  spirits  were  higher  than  ever. 
Just  beyond  the  electric  glare,  she  thrust  her  arm 
under  that  of  her  companion. 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  git  run  over,  do  you  ?  " 

Parish  had  a  thrill  of  satisfaction,  but  with  diffi- 
culty he  spoke. 

"  Let's  get  out  of  this  crowd — beastly,  isn't  it !  " 

"I  don't  mind  a  crowd.  I  like, it — when  I've 
some  one  to  hang  on  by." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  it,  I  like  just  what  you  like — 
What  time  did  you  say  it  was,  Miss  Sparkes  ?  " 

"  Just  eleven.  Time  I  was  gittin'  'ome.  There'll 
be  a  'bus  at  the  corner." 

"  I  hoped  you  were  going  to  walk,"  urged  Chris- 
topher, timidly. 

"  S'pose  I  might  just  as  well — if  you'll  take  care 
of  me." 


POLLY   AND    MR.    PARISH  33 

It  was  a  long  time  since  Polly  had  been  so  gra- 
cious, so  mild.  All  the  way  down  Whitehall,  across 
the  bridge,  and  into  Kennington  Road,  she  chatted 
of  a  hundred  things,  but  never  glanced  at  the  one 
which  held  complete  possession  of  Christopher's 
mind.  Many  times  he  brought  himself  all  but  to 
the  point  of  mentioning  it  ;  yet  his  courage  invariably 
failed.  The  risk  was  too  great  ;  it  needed  such  a 
trifling  provocation  to  disturb  Polly's  good-humour. 
He  perspired  under  the  warmth  of  the  night,  and 
from  the  tumult  of  his  feelings. 

"You  mustn't  meet  me  again  for  a  week,"  said 
Polly,  when  her  dwelling  was  within  sight. 

"Why  not?" 

**  Because  I  say  so — that's  enough,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  I  say— Polly— " 

"  I've  told  you  you're  not  to  say  '  Polly,'  "  she 
interrupted  archly. 

"  You're  awfully  good,  you  know — but  I  wish — " 

"  What  ?  Never  mind  ;  tell  me  next  time.  Ta- 
ta !  " 

She  ran  off,  and  Christopher  had  no  heart  to  de- 
tain her.  For  five  minutes  he  hung  over  the  para- 
pet at  Westminster,  watching  the  black  flood,  and 
asking  what  was  the  use  of  life.  On  the  whole,  Mr. 
Parish  found  life  decidedly  agreeable,  and  after  a 
night's  rest,  a  little  worry  notwithstanding,  he  could 
go  to  the  city  in  the  great  morning  procession,  one 
of  myriads  exactly  like  him,  and  would  hopefully 
dip  his  pen  into  the  ink-pots  of  Swettenham  Bros. 
3 


34  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

Moggie,  the  general,  was  just  coming  from  the 
public-house  with  two  foaming  jugs,  one  for  Mrs. 
Bubb,  the  other  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman,  her 
first-floor  lodgers  ;  Miss  Sparkes  passed  her  disdain- 
fully, and  entered  with  the  aid  of  a  latch-key.  From 
up-stairs  sounded  a  banjo,  preluding  ;  then  the  sound 
of  Mr.  Cheeseman's  voice,  chanting  a  popular  re- 
frain : 

"  Come  where  the  booze  is  cheaper, 
Come  where  the  pots  'old  more, 
Come  where  the  boss  is  a  bit  of  a  joss, 
Come  to  the  pub  next  door  !  ' ' 

Polly  could  not  resist  this  invitation.  She  looked 
in  at  the  Cheesemans'  sitting-room,  and  enjoyed 
half  an  hour  of  friendly  gossip  before  going  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  NOND  ESC  RIPT 

Scarcely  had  quiet  fallen  upon  the  house — it 
was  half  an  hour  after  midnight — when  at  the  front 
door  sounded  a  discreet  but  resolute  knocking. 
Mrs.  Bubb,  though  she  had  retired  to  her  chamber, 
was  not  yet  wholly  unpresentable  ;  reluctantly,  and 
with  wonder,  she  went  to  answer  the  untimely  visi- 
tor. After  a  short  parley  through  the  gap  of  the 
chained  door,  she  ascended  several  flights  and  sought 
to  arouse  Mr.  Gammon — no  easy  task. 

"  What's  up?  "  shouted  her  lodger  in  a  voice  of 
half-remembered  conviviality.—"  House  on  fire?" 

"  I  'ope  not  indeed.  There  wouldn't  have  been 
much  chance  for  you,  if  it  was. — It's  your  friend  Mr. 
Greenacre,  as  says  he  must  see  you  for  a  minute." 

"All  right.      Send   him  up,  please.     What  the 
dickens  can  he  want  this  time  o'  night  I  " 

Mr.  Gammon  having  promised  to  see  his  visitor 
out  again,  with  due  attention  to  the  house  door,  the 
landlady  showed  a  light  whilst  Mr,  Greenacre 
mounted  the  stairs.  The  gas-jet  in  his  friend's  bed- 
room displayed  him  as  a  gaunt,  ill-dressed  man,  of 

35 


36  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

about  forty,  with  a  long  unwholesome  face,  lank 
hair  and  prominent  eyes.  He  began  with  elaborate 
apologies,  phrased  and  uttered  with  more  refine- 
ment than  his  appearance  would  have  led  one  to 
expect.  No  ;  he  would  on  no  account  be  seated. 
Under  the  circumstances  he  would  not  dream  of 
staying  more  than  two,  or  at  most  three,  minutes. 
He  felt  really  ashamed  of  himself  for  such  a  flagrant 
breach  of  social  custom.  But  if  his  friend  would 
listen  patiently  for  one  minute — nay,  for  less — 

"  I  know  what  you're  driving  at,"  broke  in  Gam- 
mon, good-humouredly,  as  he  sat  in  bed  with  his 
knees  up.  "  You've  nowhere  to  sleep — ain't  that 
it?" 

"  No,  no  !  I  assure  you,  no  !  "  exclaimed  the 
other,  with  unfailing  politeness.  "  I  have  excellent 
lodgings,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields. 
Besides,  you  don't  imagine  I  should  disturb  you 
after  midnight  for  such  a  trivial  cause  ! — You  have 
heard  of  the  death  of  Lord  Bolsover  ?  " 

"  Never  knew  he  was  living,"  cried  Gammon. 

"  Nonsense,  you  are  an  incorrigible  joker.  The 
poor  fellow  died  nearly  a  week  ago.  Of  course  I 
must  attend  his  funeral  to-morrow,  down  at  Hit- 
chin  ;  I  really  couldn't  neglect  to  attend  his  fune- 
ral. And  here  comes  my  difficulty.  At  present 
I'm  driving  a  "  Saponaria"  van,  and  I  shall  have  to 
provide  a  substitute,  you  see.  I  thought  I  had 
found  one,  a  very  decent  fellow  called  Grosvenor, 
who  declares,  by  the  by,  that  he  can  trace  his  connec- 


A   NONDESCRIPT  37 

tion  with  the  aristocratic  house — interesting,  isn't  it  ? 
But  Grosvenor  has  got  into  trouble  to-day — some- 
thing about  passing  a  bad  half-crown — a  mere  mis- 
take, I'm  quite  sure.  Now  I've  been  trying  to  find 
some  one  else  ;  not  an  easy  thing ;  and  as  I  must 
have  a  substitute  by  nine  to-morrow,  I  came  in 
despair  to  you.  Fm  sure  in  your  wide  acquaintance, 
my  dear  Gammon — " 
*"  Hold  on  !  what's  "  Saponaria?" 

"  A  new  washing  powder ;  only  started  a  few 
days.  Bigvans,  painted  vermilion  and  indigo,  going 
about  town  and  suburbs,  distributing  handbills  and 
so  on." 

"  I  see.  But  look  here,  Greenacre,  what's  all  this 
rot  about  Lord  Bolsover  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Gammon  !  "  protested  the  other.  "  I 
really  can't  allow  you  to  speak  in  that  way.  I  make 
all  allowance  for  the  hour  and  the  circumstances  ; 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  death  of  a  dear  friend — " 

"  How  the  devil  came  you  to  be  his  friend — or  he 
yours?"  shouted  Gammon,  in  comical  exasperation. 

"  Why,  surely  you  have  heard  me  speak  of  him  ! 
Yet,  perhaps  not.  It  was  rather  a  painful  subject. 
The  fact  is,  I  once  gave  the  poor  fellow  a  severe 
thrashing.  It  was  before  he  succeeded  to  the  title  ; 
I  was  obliged  to  do  it.  Poor  Bolsover  con- 
fessed afterwards  that  he  had  behaved  badly  (there 
was  a  lady  in  the  case)  but  it  put  an  end  to  our  in- 
timacy. And  now  he's  gone,  and  the  least  I  can  do 
is  to  attend  his  funeral.     That  reminds  me,  Gammon, 


C-,   <    O   C.)  /> 

^^    -*.    %^    i.J>    v/ 


38  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

I  fear  I  shall  have  to  borrow  a  sovereign,  if  it's  quite 
convenient  to  you.  There's  the  hire  of  the  black 
suit,  you  see,  and  the  fare  to  Hitchin.  Do  you 
think  you  could — ?" 

He  paused  delicately,  whereupon  Gammon  burst 
into  a  roar  of  laughter  which  echoed  through  the 
still  house. 

"  You're  the  queerest  devil  I  know,"  was  the  re- 
mark that  followed,  "  It's  no  use  trying  to  make  out 
what  you're  really  up  to." 

"  I  have  stated  the  case  in  very  clear  terms,"  re- 
plied Greenacre,  solemnly.  "  The  chief  thing  is  to 
find  a  substitute  to  drive  the  Saponaria  van." 

*'  What  sort  of  animal  in  the  shafts  ?  " 

"  Two — a  pair  of  Welsh  cobs — good  little  goers." 

"By  jingo!"  shouted  Gammon,  "I'll  tool  'em 
round  myself.  I'm  off  for  to-morrow,  and  a  job  of 
that  kind  would  just  suit  me." 

Greenacre's  face  brightened  with  relief.  He  be- 
gan to  describe  the  route  which  the  Saponaria  van 
had  to  pursue. 

"  It's  the  south-east  suburbs,  to-morrow,  the  main 
thoroughfares  of  Greenwich,  Blackheath,  Lewisham 
and  all  round  there.  There  are  certain  shops  to  call 
at,  to  drop  bills  and  samples  ;  no  order-taking. 
Here's  the  list.  At  likely  places,  you  throw  out  a 
shower  of  these  little  blue  cards.  Best  is  near  a 
board-school,  when  the  children  are  about — I'm 
greatly  obliged  to  you.  Gammon  ;  I  never  thought 
you'd  be  able  to  do  it  yourself.     Could  you  be  at 


A   NONDESCRIPT  39 

the  stables  just  before  nine  ?  I'd  meet  you  and  give 
you  a  send  off.  Bait  at — where  is  it  ?  "  He  con- 
sulted the  notebook.  "  Yes,  Prince  of  Wales's 
Feathers,  Catford  Bridge  ;  no  money  out  of  pocket ; 
all  settled  in  the  plan  of  campaign.  Rest  the  cobs 
for  an  hour  or  so.  Get  round  to  the  stables  again 
about  five,  and  I'll  be  there — It's  very  kind  of  you; 
Ilm  very  greatly  obliged.  And  if  you  cou/d — 
without  inconvenience — " 

His  eyes  fell  upon  Gammon's  clothing,  which  lay 
heaped  on  a  chair.  On  the  part  of  the  man  in  bed 
there  w^as  a  moment's  hesitation,  but  Gammon  had 
never  refused  a  loan  which  it  was  in  his  power  to 
grant.  In  a  few  minutes  he  fulfilled  his  promise  to 
Mrs.  Bubb,  seeing  Greenacre  safely  out  of  the  house, 
and  making  fast  the  front  door  again  ;  then  he 
turned  in  and  slept  soundly  till  seven  o'clock. 

All  went  well  in  the  morning.  The  sun  shone  and 
there  was  a  pleasant  north-west  breeze ;  in  high 
spirits  Gammon  mounted  the  big,  but  light,  van 
which  seemed  to  shout  in  its  brilliancy  of  red  and 
blue  paint.  It  was  some  time  since  he  had  had  the 
pleasure  of  driving  a  pair.  Greenacre  had  not  over- 
praised the  cobs  ;  their  start  promised  an  enjoyable 
day.  He  was  not  troubled  by  any  sense  of  indig- 
nity, unfailing  humour,  and  a  vast  variety  of  experi- 
ence, preserved  him  from  such  thoughts.  As  al- 
ways, he  threw  himself  into  the  business  of  the 
moment  with  conscientious  gusto ;  he  had  Sapona- 
ria  at  heart,  and  was  as  anxious  to  advertise  the 


40  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

new  washing  powder  as  if  the  profits  were  all  his 
own.  At  one  spot  where  a  little  crowd  chanced  to 
gather  about  the  van,  he  delivered  an  address,  a 
fervid  eulogy  of  Saponaria,  declaring  his  conviction 
(based  on  private  correspondence)  that  in  a  week  or 
two  it  would  be  exclusively  used  in  all  the  laun- 
dries of  the  Royal  Family. 

At  one  shop  where  he  was  instructed  to  call,  he 
found  a  little  trap  waiting,  and  as  he  entered  there 
came  out  a  man  whom  he  knew  by  sight,  evidently 
a  traveller,  who  mounted  the  trap  and  drove  off. 
The  shopkeeper  was  in  a  very  disagreeable  mood 
and  returned  Gammon's  greeting  roughly. 

"Something  wrong?"  asked  Gammon  with  his 
wonted  cheeriness. 

"  Saw  that  chap  in  the  white  'at  ?  I've  just  told 
him  str'ight  that  if  he  comes  into  this  shop  again, 
I'll  kick  'im.     I  told  him  str'ight— see  ?  " 

"  Did  you  ?  I  like  to  hear  a  man  talk  like  that. 
It  shows  there's  something  in  him.  Who  is  the 
fellow?     I  seem  to  remember  him  somehow." 

"  Quodlings'  traveller.  And  he's  lost  them  my 
orders.  And  I  shall  write  and  tell  'em  so.  I  never 
did  like  that  chap,  but  when  he  comes  in  'ere,  with 
his  white  'at,  telling  me  to  manage  my  own  busi- 
ness, and  larfing',  yis,  larfin' — why,  I've  done  with 
him  and  I  told  him  str'ight,"  etc. 

"  Quodlings',  eh  ?  "  said  Gammon,  reflectively. 
"They're  likely  to  be  wanting  a  new  traveller,  I 
should  say." 


A   NONDESCRIPT  4I 

"They  will  if  they  take  my  advice,"  replied  the 
shopkeeper.  "  And  that  I  shall  give  'em,  *ot  and 
strong." 

As  he  drove  on,  Gammon  mused  over  this  inci- 
dent. The  oil  and  colour  business  was  not  one  of 
his  "  specialities,"  but  he  knew  a  good  deal  about 
it,  and  could  easily  learn  what  remained.  The  name 
of  Quodling  interested  him,  being  that  of  the  man 
in  the  City  who  so  strikingly  resembled  Mr.  Clover, 
who,  moreover,  was  probabl}^  connected  in  some 
way  with  the  oil  and  colour  firm.  It  might  be  well 
to  keep  an  eye  on  Quodlings' — a  substantial  con- 
cern likely  to  give  one  a  chance  of  the  "  perma- 
nency "  which  was,  on  the  whole,  desirable. 

He  had  a  boy  with  him,  to  hold  the  horses,  a 
sharp  lad  whose  talk  gave  him  amusement  when  he 
was  tired  of  thinking.  They  found  a  common  in- 
terest in  dogs.  Gammon  invited  the  youngster  to 
come  and  see  his  "  bow-wows  "  at  Dulwich,  prom- 
ising him  his  choice  out  of  the  litter  of  bull  ter- 
riers. With  animation  he  discoursed  upon  the  points 
of  this  species  of  dog — the  pure  white  coat ;  the 
long,  lean,  punishing  head,  flat  above  ;  the  breadth 
behind  the  ears  ;  the  strength  of  back.  He  warned 
his  young  friend  against  the  wiles  of  the  "  fake," 
who  had  been  known  to  pipeclay  a  mottled  animal 
and  deceive  the  amateur.  Altogether  the  day 
proved  so  refreshing  that  Gammon  was  sorry  when 
its  end  drew  near. 

Grecnacre  was  late  for  his  appointment  at  the 


42  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

stables  ;  he  came  in  a  suit  of  black,  imperfectly  fit- 
ting, and  a  chimney-pot  hat  some  years  old,  looking 
very  much  like  an  undertaker's  man.  His  appearance 
seemed  to  prove  that  he  really  had  attended  a  fu- 
neral, which  renewed  Gammon's  wonder.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  they  repaired  to  the  nearest  eat- 
ing-house to  have  a  meal  together  ;  an  eating-house 
of  the  old  fashion,  known  also  as  a  coffee-shop, 
which  Gammon  greatly  preferred  to  any  kind  of 
restaurant.  There  on  the  narrow  seats  with  high 
wodden  backs,  as  uncomfortable  a  sitting  as  could 
be  desired,  with  food  before  him  of  worse  quality 
and  worse  cooked  than  any  but  English-speaking 
mortals  would  endure,  he  always  felt  at  home,  and 
was  pleasantly  reminded  of  the  days  of  his  youth, 
when  a  supper  of  eggs  and  bacon  at  some  such  re- 
sort rewarded  him  for  a  long  week's  toil  and  pinch- 
ing. Sweet  to  him  were  the  rancid  odours;  delight- 
fully familiar  the  dirty  knives,  the  twisted  forks, 
the  battered  teaspoons  ;  not  unwelcome  the  day's 
newspaper  splashed  with  brown  stains  of  coffee  and 
spots  of  grease.  He  often  lamented  that  this  kind 
of  establishment  was  growing  rare,  passing  away 
with  so  many  other  features  of  old  London. 

More  fastidious,  Greenacre  could  have  wished  his 
egg  some  six  months  fresher,  and  his  drink  less  ob- 
viously a  concoction  of  rinsings.  But  he  was  a  guest, 
and  his  breeding  did  not  allow  him  to  complain. 
Of  the  funeral  he  shrank  from  speaking ;  but  the 
few  words  he  dropped  were  such  as  would  have  be- 


A   NONDESCRIPT  43 

fitted  a   genuine  grief.     Gammon  even  heard  him 
murmur,  unconsciously,  "  Poor  Bolsover." 

Having  eaten,  they  wended  their  way  to  a  little 
public-house  with  a  parlour  known  only  to  the  fa- 
voured few,  where  Greenacre,  after  a  glass  or  two  of 
rum — a  choice  for  which  he  thought  it  necessary  to 
apologise — began  to  discourse  upon  a  topic  peculi- 
arly his  own. 

"  I  couldn't  help  thinking  to-day,  Gammon,  what 
a  strange  assembly  there  would  be,  if  all  a  man's 
relatives  came  to  his  funeral.  Nearly  all  of  us  must 
have  such  lots  of  distant  connections  that  we  know 
nothing  about.  Now  a  man  like  Bolsover,  an  aris- 
tocrat, with  fifty  or  more  acknowledged  relatives,  in 
good  position  ;  think  how  many  more  there  must  be 
in  out-of-the-way  places,  poor  and  unknown.  Aye, 
and  some  of  them  not  so  very  distant  kinsfolk,  either. 
Think  of  the  hosts  of  illegitimate  children,  for  in- 
stance ;  some  who  know  who  they  are  and  some  who 
don't." 

This  was  said  so  significantly,  that  Gammon  won- 
dered whether  it  had  a  personal  appHcation, 

"  It's  a  theory  of  mine,"  pursued  the  other,  his 
prominent  eyes  fixed  on  some  far  vision,  "  that  every 
one  of  us,  however  poor,  has  some  wealthy  relative, 
if  he  could  only  be  found.  I  mean  a  relative  within 
reasonable  limits — not  a  cousin  fifty  times  removed. 
That's  one  of  the  charms  of  London,  to  me.  A 
little  old  man  used  to  cobble  my  boots  for  me,  a  few 
years  ago,  in  Ball's  Pond   Road.     He  had  an  idea 


44  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

that  one  of  his  brothers,  who  went  out  to  New 
Zealand  and  was  no  more  heard  of,  had  made  a  great 
fortune  ;  said  he'd  dreamed  about  it  again  and  again, 
and  couldn't  get  rid  of  the  fancy.  Well  now,  the 
house  in  which  he  lived  took  fire,  and  the  poor  old 
chap  was  burned  in  his  bed,  and  so  his  name  got  into 
the  newspapers.  A  day  or  two  after  T  heard  that 
his  brother — the  one  he  spoke  of — had  been  living 
for  some  years  scarcely  a  mile  away,  at  Stoke  New- 
ington — a  man  rolling  in  money,  a  director  of  the 
British  and  Colonial  Bank." 

"  Rummy  go !  "  remarked  Gammon. 

"  When  I  was  a  lad,"  pursued  the  other,  after 
sipping  at  his  refilled  glass,  "  I  lived  just  by  an  old 
church  in  the  City,  and  I  knew  the  verger,  and  he 
used  to  let  me  look  over  the  registers.  I  think  that's 
what  gave  me  my  turn  for  genealogy.  I  believe 
there  are  fellows  who  get  a  living  by  hunting  up 
pedigrees  ;  that  would  just  suit  me — if  I  only  knew 
how  to  start  in  the  business." 

Gammon  looked  up,  and  asked  abruptly  : 

"  Know  anybody  called  Quodling?  " 

"  Quodling  ?  No  one  personally.  But  there's  a 
firm  of  Quodling, — brushmakers  or  something." 

"  Oil  and  colourmen." 

"Yes;  to  be  sure — Quodling?  Now  I  come  to 
think  of  it — why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  There's  man  in  the  City  called  Quodling,  a  silk 
broker.  For  private  reasons  I  should  like  to  know 
something  about  him." 


A   NONDESCRIPT  45 

Greenacre  gazed  absently  at  his  friend,  like  one 
who  tries  to  piece  together  old  memories. 

"  Lost  it,"  he  muttered  at  length,  in  a  discontented 
tone.  "  Something  about  a  Mrs,  Quodling — and 
a  lawsuit — big  lawsuit  that  used  to  be  talked  about 
when  I  was  a  boy.  My  father  was  a  lawyer,  you 
know." 

"  Was  he  ?  It's  the  first  time  you  ever  told  me," 
replied  Gammon  with  a  chuckle. 

"  Nonsense!  I  must  have  mentioned  it  many  a 
time.  I've  often  noticed,  Gammon,  how  very  de- 
fective your  memory  is.  You  should  use  a  mnemo- 
nic system.  I  made  a  splendid  one  some  years  ago, 
it  helped  me  immensely." 

*'  I  could  have  felt  sure,"  said  Gammon,  "  that 
you  told  me  once  your  father  was  a  coal-merchant." 

"  Why,  so  he  was — later  on. — Am  I  to  under- 
stand. Gammon,  that  you  accuse  me  of  distorting 
facts?  " 

With  the  end  of  his  third  tumbler,  there  had  come 
upon  Greenacre  a  tendency  to  maudlin  dignity  and 
sensitiveness  ;  he  laid  a  hand  on  his  friend's  arm, 
and  looked  at  him  with  pained  reproach. 

"  Gammon  !  I  was  never  inclined  to  mendacity 
— though,  I  confess,  to  mendicity  I  have  occasion- 
ally fallen.  To  you,  Gammon,  I  could  not  lie,  I 
respect  you  ;  I  admire  you  ;  in  spite  of  the  great 
distance  between  us  in  education  and  habits  of  mind. 
If  I  thought  you  accused  me  of  falsehood,  my  dear 
Gammon,  it  would  distress  me  deeply.     Assure  me 


46  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

that  you  don't !  I  am  easily  put  out  to-day.  The 
death  of  poor  Bolsover — my  friend  before  he  suc- 
ceeded to  the  title — !  And  that  reminds  me.  But 
for  a  mere  accident,  I  might  myself  at  this  moment 
have  borne  a  title.  My  mother,  before  her  marriage, 
refused  the  offer  of  a  man  who  rose  to  wealth  and 
honors,  and  only  a  year  or  two  ago  died  a  baronet. 
Well,  well !  the  chances  of  life— the  accidents  of 
birth  !  " 

He  shook  his  head  for  some  minutes,  murmuring 
inarticulate  regrets. 

"  I  think  I'll  just  have  one  more,  Gammon." 

"  I  think  not,  old  boy.  Where  did  you  say  you 
lived?" 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right.  Most  comfortable  lodg- 
ings ;  in  the  parish  of  St.  Martin's-in-the-Field. — If 
you  have  the  slightest  doubt  of  my  veracity,  leave 
me.  Gammon  ;  I  beg  you  will  leave  me.  I — in  fact 
I  have  an  appointment  with  a  gentleman  I  met  at 
poor  Bolsover's  funeral — " 

With  no  little  difficulty,  Gammon  led  him  away, 
and  by  means  of  an  omnibus  landed  him  at  length 
near  St.  Martin's  Church.  No  entreaty  could  induce 
the  man  to  give  his  address.  He  protested  that  a 
few  minutes'  walk  would  bring  him  home,  and,  as  he 
seemed  to  have  sobered  sufficiently.  Gammon  left 
him  sitting  on  the  church  steps,  a  strange  object  in 
his  borrowed  suit  of  mourning  and  his  antiquated 
top  hat. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    HEAD-WAITER     AT    CHAFFEY'S 

"  Polly  Sparkes  had  a  father.  That  Mr.  Sparkes 
still  lived  was  not  known  to  the  outer  circles  of 
Polly's  acquaintance  ;  she  never  spoke  of  her  family  ; 
and  it  was  not  easy  to  think  of  Polly  in  the  filial 
relation.  For  some  years  she  had  lived  in  complete 
independence,  now  and  then  exchanging  a  letter  with 
her  parent,  but  seeing  him  rarely.  Not  that  they 
were  on  ill  terms  ;  unpleasantness  of  that  kind  had 
been  avoided  by  their  satisfaction  in  living  apart. 
Polly  sometimes  wished  she  had  a  father  "  to  be 
proud  of " — a  sufficiently  intelligible  phrase  on 
Polly's  lips — but  for  the  rest  she  thought  of  him 
with  tolerance,  as  a  good  silly  sort  of  man  who 
"  couldn't  help  himself  " — that  is  to  say,  could  not 
help  being  what  he  was. 

And  Mr.  Sparkes  was  a  waiter  ;  had  been  a  waiter 
for  some  thirty  years,  and  would  probably  pursue 
the  calling  as  long  as  he  was  fit  for  it.  In  this  fact 
he  saw  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of ;  it  had  never  oc- 
curred to  him  that  any  one  could  or  should  be 
ashamed  of  the  position  ;  nevertheless,  Mr.  Sparkes 

47 


48  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

was  a  disappointed,  even  an  embittered  man.  And 
that  for  a  subtle  reason,  which  did  credit  to  his 
sensibility. 

All  his  life  he  had  been  employed  at  Chaffey's. 
As  a  boy  of  ten  he  joined  Chaffey's  in  the  capacity 
of  plate-washer ;  zeal  and  conduct  promoted  him, 
and  seniority  made  him  at  length  head-waiter.  In 
those  days,  Chaffey's  was  an  eating-house  of  the  old 
kind,  one  long  room  with  "  boxes  "  ;  beef  its  staple 
dish,  its  drink  a  sound  porter  at  twopence  a  pint. 
How  many  thousand  times  had  Mr.  Sparkes  shouted 
the  order,  "  One  ally-mode ! "  The  chief,  almost 
the  only,  variant  "  One  'ot  !  "  which  signified  a  cut 
from  the  boiled  round,  served  of  course,  with  carrots 
and  potatoes  remarkable  for  their  excellence. 
Mid-day  dinner  was  the  only  meal  recognised  at 
Chaffey's :  from  twelve  to  half-past  two  the  press  of 
business  kept  every  one  breathless  and  perspiring ; 
before  and  after  these  hours,  little  if  anything  was 
looked  for,  and  at  four  o'clock  the  establishment 
closed  its  doors. 

But  it  came  to  pass  that  the  proprietor  of  Chaffey's 
died,  and  the  business  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  young 
man  with  new  ideas.  Within  a  few  months  Chaffey's 
underwent  a  transformation  ;  it  was  pulled  down, 
rebuilt,  enlarged,  beautified  ;  nothing  left  of  its  old 
self  but  the  name.  In  place  of  the  homely  eating- 
house  there  stood  a  large  hall,  painted  and  gilded, 
and  set  about  with  mirrors,  furnished  with  marble 
tables  and  cane-bottomed  chairs.     To  all    appear- 


THE    HEAD-WAITER   AT   CHAFFEY  S         49 

ancqs  a  restaurant  on  the  Franco-Italian  pattern. 
Yet  Chaffey's  remained  English,  flagrantly-English, 
in  its  viands  and  its  waiters.  The  new  proprietor 
aimed  at  combining  foreign  glitter  with  the  prices 
and  the  entertainment  acceptable  to  a  public  of  small 
means.  Moreover,  he  prospered.  The  doors  were 
now  open  from  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  twelve 
at  night.  There  was  a  bar  for  the  supply  of  alco- 
holic drinks — the  traditional  porter  had  always  been 
fetched  from  a  neighbouring  house — and  frivolities 
such  as  tea  and  coffee  were  in  constant  demand. 

This  change  told  grievously  upon  Mr.  Sparkes. 
At  the  first  mention  of  it  he  determined  to  resign  ; 
but  a  weakness  in  his  character  shrank  from  such  a 
decided  step,  and  he  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn 
into  a  painfully  false  position.  The  proprietor  did 
not  wish  to  lose  him.  Mr.  Sparkes  was  a  slim, 
upright,  grave-featured  man,  whose  deportment  had 
its  market  value ;  his  side-whiskers  and  shaven  lip 
gave  him  a  decidedly  clerical  aspect,  which,  together 
with  long  experience  and  a  certain  austerity  of 
command,  well-fitted  him  for  superintending  the 
younger  waiters.  His  salary  was  increased ;  his 
"tips"  represented  a  much  larger  income  than  here- 
tofore ;  at  the  old  Chaffey's  every  diner  gave  him  a 
penny,  whilst  at  the  new  he  often  received  two- 
pence, and  customers  were  much  more  numerous. 
But  every  copper  he  pouched  cost  Mr.  Sparkes  a 
pang  of  humiliation  ;  his  "  thank  you,  sir,"  had  the 
urbanity  which  has  become  mechanical,  but  more 
4 


50  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

often  than  not  he  sneered  inwardly,  despising  him- 
self and  those  upon  whom  he  waited. 

To  one  person  alone  did  he  exhibit  all  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  feelings,  and  that  was  Mrs.  Clover,  the 
sister  of  his  deceased  wife.  With  her  he  occasion- 
ally spent  a  Sunday  evening  in  the  parlour  behind 
the  china-shop,  and  there  would  speak  the  thoughts 
that  oppressed  him. 

"  It  isn't  that  I've  any  quarrel  with  the  foreign 
rest'rants,  Louisa.  They're  all  right  in  their  way. 
They  suit  a  certain  public,  and  they  charge  certain 
prices.  But  what  I  do  think  is  mean  and  low — mean 
and  low — is  to  be  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other; 
to  make  a  sort  of  show  as  if  you  was  'igh-clawss,  and 
then  have  it  known  as  you're  the  cheapest  of  the 
cheap.  Potatoes  !  That  I  should  live  to  see  Chaf- 
fey's  'anding  out  such  potatoes  !  They're  more  like 
food  for  pigs,  and  I've  known  the  day  when  Chaf- 
fey's  'ud  have  thrown  'em  at  the  'ead  of  anybody  as 
delivered  'em  such  offal.  It  isn't  a  place  for  a  self- 
respecting  man,  and  I  feel  it  more  and  more.  If  a 
shop  boy  wants  to  take  out  his  sweetheart  and  make 
a  pretence  of  doing  it  grand,  where  does  he  go  to  ? 
Why,  to  Chaffey's.  He  couldn't  afford  a  real  rest- 
'rant,  but  Chaffey's  looks  the  same,  and  Chaffey's  is 
cheap.  To  hear  'em  ordering  roast  fowl  and  camum- 
beer  cheese  to  follow — it  fair  sickens  me.  Roast 
fowl !  A  old  'en  as  wouldn't  be  good  enough  for  a 
real  rest'rant  to  make  inter  soup  !  And  the  camum- 
beer !     I've  got  my  private  idea,  Louisa,  about  what 


THE    HEAD-WAITER   AT   CHAFFEY  S  5 1 

that  camumbeer  is  made  of.  And  when  I  think  of 
the  Cheshire  and  the  Cheddar  we  used  to  top  up 
with !     It's  'art-breaking." 

From  a  speaker  with  such  a  countenance  all 
this  was  very  impressive.  Mrs.  Clover  shook  her 
head,  and  considered  what  England  was  coming  to. 
In  return,  she  would  tell  of  the  people  who  came  to 
her  shop  to  hire  cups  and  saucers,  just  to  make  a 
show  when  they  had  a  friend  to  tea  with  them. 
There  was  much  of  the  right  spirit  in  both  these 
persons,  for  they  sincerely  despised  shams,  though 
they  were  not  above  profiting  by  the  snobberies  of 
others.  But  Mrs.  Clover  found  amusement  in  the 
state  of  things  ;  whereas  Mr.  Sparkes  grew  more 
despondent  the  more  he  talked,  and  always  added 
with  a  doleful  self-reproach. 

"  If  I'd  been  half  a  man  I  should  have  left.  They'd 
have  taken  me  on  at  Simpkin's,  I  know  they  would, 
or  at  the  Old  City  Chop-house,  if  I'd  waited  for  a 
vacancy.  Who'd  take  me  on  now?  Why,  they'd 
throw  it  in  my  face  that  I  came  from  Chaffey's,  and 
I  shouldn't  have  half  a  word  to  say  for  myself." 

It  was  very  seldom  that  he  received  a  written  in- 
vitation from  his  sister-in-law,  but  he  heard  from  her 
in  these  hot  days  of  June  that  she  particularly  wished 
to  see  him  as  soon  as  possible.  The  message,  he 
thought,  must  have  some  reference  to  Mrs.  Clover's 
husband,  whose  reappearance  at  any  moment  would 
have  been  no  great  surprise,  even  after  an  absence 
of  six  years.     Mr.  Sparkes  had  a  strong  objection  to 


52  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

mysterious  persons  ;  he  was  all  for  peace  and  com- 
fort in  a  familiar  routine,  and  for  his  own  part  had 
often  hoped  that  the  man  Clover  was  by  this  time 
dead  and  buried.  Responding  as  soon  as  possible 
to  Mrs.  Clover's  summons,  he  found  that  she  wished 
to  speak  to  him  about  his  daughter.  Mrs.  Clover 
showed  herself  seriously  disturbed  by  Polly's  recent 
behaviour  ;  she  told  of  the  newly-acquired  jewellery, 
of  the  dresses  in  which  Miss  Sparkes  went  "  flaunt- 
ing," of  the  girl's  scornful  refusal  to  answer  natural 
inquiries. 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  Ebenezer,  you 
ought  to  see  her  and  find  out  what's  going  on. 
There  may  be  nothing  wrong ;  and  I  don't  say  there 
is ;  but  that  watch  and  chain  of  hers  wasn't  bought 
under  twenty  pounds,  that  I'll  answer  for,  and  it's  a 
very  queer  thing,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  What  busi- 
ness was  it  of  mine,  she  asked.  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  she  says  the  same  to  you  ;  but  it's  your  plain  duty 
to  have  a  talk  with  her — don't  you  think  so  now  ?" 

To  have  a  talk  with  Polly,  especially  on  such  a 
subject,  was  no  easy  or  pleasant  undertaking  for  Mr. 
Sparkes,  who  had  so  long  resigned  all  semblance  of 
parental  authority.  But  as  a  conscientious  man  he 
could  not  stand  aside  when  his  only  surviving 
daughter  seemed  in  peril.  After  an  exchange  of 
post-cards,  a  meeting  took  place  between  them, 
on  the  Embankment  below  Waterloo  Bridge — for 
neither  father  nor  child  had  anything  in  the  nature 
of  a  home  beyond  the  indispensable  bed-room,  and 


THE    HEAD-WAITER   AT   CHAFFEY'S  53 

their  only  chance  of  privacy  was  in  the  open  air. 
Having  no  desire  to  quarrel  with  her  parent  (it  would 
have  been  so  very  one-sided  and  uninspiriting)  Polly 
began  in  a  conciliatory  tone: 

"Aunt  Louisa's  been  making  a  bother,  has  she? 
Just  like  her.  Don't  you  listen  to  her  fussicking, 
dad.  What's  all  the  row  about  ?  I've  had  a  present 
given  to  me — well,  what  of  that  ?  You  can  look  at 
ft  for  yourself.  I  can't  tell  you  who  give  it  me,  'cos 
I've  promised  I  wouldn't ;  but  you'll  know  some 
day,  and  then  you'll  larff.  It  ain't  nothing  to  fret 
your  gizzard  about — so  there.  I'm  old  enough  to 
look  after  myself,  and  if  I  ain't,  I  never  shall  be — so 
there." 

This  did  not  satisfy  Mr.  Sparkes.  He  saw  that 
the  watch  and  chain  were  certainly  valuable,  and  he 
could  not  imagine  how  the  girl  had  become  hon- 
ourably possessed  of  them,  save  as  the  gift  of  an 
admirer ;  but  the  mere  fact  of  such  an  admirer's  ex- 
acting secrecy  implied  a  situation  of  danger, 

"  I  don't  like  the  look  of  it,  Polly,"  he  remarked, 
with  a  nervous  attempt  to  be  severe. 

"  All  right,  dad.  Then  don't  like  the  look  of  it. 
The  watch  is  good  enough  for  me." 

It  took  Mr.  Sparkes  two  or  three  minutes  to  un- 
derstand this  joke.  Whilst  he  was  reflecting  upon 
it  a  thought  suddenly  passed  through  his  mind 
which  startled  him  by  its  suggestiveness. 

"Polly—" 

"  Well  ?  " 


54  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  It  ain't  your  uncle  Clover,  is  it?  " 

The  girl  laughed  loudly,  as  if  at  a  preposterous 
question. 

"  Him  ?  Why,  I've  as  good  as  forgot  there  was 
such  a  man  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  Why,  I  shouldn't 
know  him  if  I  saw  him.  What  made  you  think  of 
that?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Who  knows  when  and  where 
he  may  turn  up,  or  what  he'll  do  ?  " 

"  That's  a  good  'un  !  My  uncle  Clover,  indeed  ! 
Whatever  put  that  into  your  'ead  ! " 

Her  ejaculations  of  wonder  and  disdain  continued 
until  the  close  of  the  interview,  and  Mr.  Sparkes 
went  his  way  convinced  that  Polly  was  being  pur- 
sued  by  some  wealthy  man,  probably  quite  unprin- 
cipled—the kind  of  man  who  frequents  "  proper  res- 
t'rants  "  and  sits  in  the  stalls  at  "  theaytres,"  where 
doubtless  Polly  had  made  his  acquaintance.  After 
brooding  for  a  day  for  two  on  this  idea,  he  procured 
a  sheet  of  the  cheapest  notepaper,  and  sat  down  in 
his  bed-room,  high  up  at  Chaffey's,  to  compose  a 
letter  for  his  daughter's  behoof. 

"  Dear  Polly, 

"  I  write  you  these  few  lines  to  say  that  the  more 
I  think  about  you  and  your  way  of  carrying  on  the 
less  I  like  the  look  of  it  and  the  sooner  I  make  that 
plain  to  you  the  better  for  both  of  us,  and  I'm  sure 
you  will  think  the  same.  You  are  that  strong- 
headed,  my  girl,  but  listen  tothe  warnings  of  experi- 


THE    HEAD-WAITER   AT   CHAFFEY'S         55 

ence,  who  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  wicked  world 
and  cannot  hope  to  see  much  more  of  it  at  my  present 
age.  There  will  come  a  day  when  you  will  wish  that 
you  could  hear  of  me  by  a  note  to  Chaffey's,  but  such 
will  not  be.  Before  it's  too  late  I  take  up  the  pen 
to  say  these  few  words,  which  is  this,  I  have  always 
been  a  respectable  and  a  saving  man,  which  I  hope 
to  until  I  am  no  more.  What  I  mean  to  say  is 
this,  Chaffey's  is  not  what  it  used  to  be,  but  I  have 
laid  by,  and  when  it  comes  to  the  solemn  hour  then 
Mr.  Walker  has  promised  to  make  my  will.  All  I 
want  to  say  is  that  there  may  be  more  than  you  think 
for,  and  if  you  are  respectable  I  think  it  most  likely 
all  will  be  yours.  But  listen  to  this,  If  you  disgrace 
yourself,  my  girl,  not  one  halfpenny  nor  yet  one 
sixpenny  piece,  will  you  receive  from. 

"  Your  affectionate  father, 

"  Ebenezer  Sparkes. 

"  P.  S.  This  is  wrote  in  a  very  serious  mind." 

This  epistle  at  once  pleased  and  angered  Polly. 
Though  a  greedy,  she  was  not  a  mercenary,  young 
woman  ;  she  had  little  cunning,  and  her  vulgar 
ambitions  were  consistent  with  a  good  deal  of  honest 
feeling.  To  do  her  justice,  she  had  never  considered 
the  possibility  that  her  father  might  have  money  to 
bequeath  ;  his  disclosure  surprised  her,  and  caused 
her  to  reflect  for  the  first  time  that  Chaffey's  head- 
waiter  had  long  held  a  tolerably  lucrative  position, 


56  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

whilst  his  expenses  must  have  been  trivial.  So  much 
the  better  for  her.  On  the  other  hand,  she  strongly 
resented  his  suspicions  and  warning.  In  the  muddled 
obscurity  of  Polly's  consciousness  there  was  a  some- 
thing which  stood  for  womanly  pride.  She  knew 
very  well  what  dangers  perpetually  surrounded  her, 
and  she  contrasted  herself  with  the  girls  who  weakly, 
or  recklessly,  threw  themselves  away.  Divided  thus 
between  injury  and  gratitude,  she  speedily  answered 
her  father's  letter,  writing  upon  a  sheet  of  scented 
grass-green  notepaper,  deeply  ribbed,  which  made 
her  pen  blot,  splutter  and  sprawl  far  more  than  it 
would  have  done  on  a  smooth  surface. 

"  Dear  Dad, 

"  In  reply  to  yours  what  I  have  to  say  is 
Aunt  Louisa  and  Mrs.  Bubb  are  nasty  cats,  and  I 
don't  thank  them  for  making  a  bother.  It  is  very 
kind  of  you  about  your  will  though  I'm  sure  if  you 
believe  me  I  don't  want  not  yet  to  see  you  in  your 
grave  and  what  I  do  think  is  you  might  have  a  better 
oppinion  of  your  daghter  and  not  think  all  the  bad 
things  you  can  turn  your  mind  to.  And  if  it  is  me 
that  dies  first  you  will  be  sorry  for  the  wrong  you 
done  me.     So  I  will  say  no  more,  dear  dad, 

"  From  your  loving 

"  Polly," 


CHAPTER  VII 

POLLY' S    WRATH 

Polly  posted  her  letter  on  the  way  to  the  theatre. 
This  evening  she  had  a  private  engagement  for  ten 
o'clock,  and,  on  setting  forth  to  the  appointed  place, 
she  looked  carefully  about  her  to  make  sure  that  no 
one  watched  or  followed  her.  Christopher  Parish 
was  not  the  only  young  man  who  had  a  habit  of  stand- 
ing to  wait  for  her  at  the  theatre  door.  Upon  him  she 
could  lay  her  commands  with  some  assurance  that 
they  would  be  observed,  but  others  were  less  sub- 
missive; and  at  times  had  given  her  trouble.  To  be 
sure,  she  could  always  get  rid  of  importunate  persons 
by  the  use  of  her  special  gift,  that  primitive  sarcasm 
which  few  cared  to  face  for  more  than  a  minute  or 
two ;  but  with  admirers  Polly  wished  to  be  as  far  as 
possible  gracious,  never  coming  to  extremities  with 
one  of  them  until  she  was  quite  certain  that  she 
thoroughly  disliked  him.  Finding  the  coast  clear, 
(which  after  all,  slightly  disappointed  her),  she 
walked  sharply  into  another  street,  where  she  hailed 
a  passing  hansom  and  was  driven  to  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields. 

57 


58  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

Here,  on  the  quiet  pavement,  shadowed  by  the 
College  of  Surgeons,  she  lingered  in  expectancy. 
Ten  was  striking,  but  she  looked  in  vain  for  the 
figure  she  would  recognise — that  of  a  well-dressed, 
middle-aged  man,  with  a  white  silk  comforter  about 
his  neck  and  drawn  up  so  as  to  hide  his  mouth. 
Twice  she  had  met  him  here,  and  on  each  occasion  he 
was  waiting  for  her  when  she  arrived.  Five  minutes 
passed,  ten  minutes ;  she  grew  very  impatient  and,  as 
a  necessary  consequence,  very  angry.  To  avoid  un- 
pleasant attention  from  the  few  people  who  walked 
by,  she  had  to  pace  backwards  and  forwards  as  if 
going  about  her  business.  When  the  clocks  chimed 
the  first  quarter,  Polly  was  in  a  turmoil  of  anger 
blended  with  disappointment  and  apprehensions. 
She  could  not  have  made  a  mistake.  The  message 
she  had  received  was  "  W.  S.  T."  which  meant, 
"  Wednesday,  Same  Time."  Some  accident  must 
have  interfered.  At  twenty  minutes  past  ten  she 
had  lost  all  hope.  She  must  go  home,  and  wait  for 
a  possible  communication  on  the  morrow. 

Swinging  her  skirts,  clenching  her  fists  and  talking 
silently  at  a  great  rate,  she  walked  in  the  direction 
of  Chancery  Lane.  At  a  corner,  some  one  going  in 
the  opposite  direction  caught  sight  of  her  and 
stopped.  Polly  was  so  preoccupied  that  she  would 
not  have  noticed  the  figure  had  it  merely  passed  ;  by 
stopping  it  drew  her  attention,  and  she  beheld 
Christopher  Parish. 

"Why,  Miss  Sparkes!" 


POLLYS   WRATH  59 

He  held  out  his  hand,  but  to  no  purpose.  Polly 
had  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him  and  they  flashed  with 
hostility. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  it  ?  " 

"Mean?     By  what?" 

The  young  man  was  astonished  ;  his  hand  dropped 
and  he  trembled  before  her. 

-     "  How  dare  you    spy   after   me  ?     Nasty   little 
wretch  ! " 

"  Spy  after  you,  Miss  Sparkes  ?  Why,  I  hadn't 
the  least  idea  of  anything  of  the  kind — I  swear  I 
hadn't  !  I  was  just  taking  a  walk — " 

"Oh,  yes!  Of  course  !  You're  always  taking  a 
walk,  aren't  you  ?  And  you  always  come  just  this 
way,  cause  it's  nice  and  convenient  for  Lambeth 
Road,  ain't  it  ?  I've  a  good  mind  to  call  a  p'liceman, 
and  give  you  in  charge  for  stopping  me  in  the 
street!" 

*'  Well,  did  ever  anybody  hear  such  a  thing  as 
this  I  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Parish,  faint  in  voice  and 
utterly  at  a  loss  for  protestations  at  all  effective. 
"  I  tell  you  I  was  only  taking  a  walk — that's  to  say, 
I've  been  with  a  friend — " 

"A  friend?     Oh,  yes,  of  course.     What  friend  ?  " 

"  It's  somebody  you  don't  know ;  his  name — " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  I  don't  know  him  1  And  I  don't 
know  you  either,  after  to-night,  so  just  remember 
that,  Mr.  Parish!  The  idea!  If  I  can't  take  two 
steps  without  being  followed  and  spied  upon  !  And 
you  call  yourself  a  gentleman  !     Get  out  of  my  way, 


6o  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

please,  if  you  want  to  follow  and  spy,  you're  quite 
at  liberty  to  do  so.  P'r'aps  it'll  ease  your  nasty  little 
mind.  Don't  talk  to  me  !  What  business  have  you 
got  to  stop  me  in  the  street,  I'd  like  to  know?  If 
you're  not  careful  I  shall  send  a  complaint  to  your 
employers,  and  then  you'll  have  plenty  of  time  to 
go  taking  walks." 

She  turned  from  him,  and  pursued  her  way,  but 
not  so  quickly  as  before.  Christopher,  limp  with 
misery,  tried  to  move  off  in  another  direction,  but 
in  spite  of  himself  he  was  drawn  after  her.  By 
Chancery  Lane  and  along  the  Strand  he  kept  her  in 
sight,  often  with  difficulty,  for  he  durst  not  draw 
nearer  than  some  twenty  yards.  At  Charing  Cross 
she  stopped,  and  by  her  movements  showed  that 
she  was  looking  for  an  omnibus.  Parish  longed  to 
approach,  quivered  with  the  ever-recurrent  impulse — 
but  his  fear  prevailed.  In  a  more  lucid  state  of 
mind  he  would  probably  have  remarked  that  Polly 
allowed  a  great  many  omnibuses  to  go  by,  and  that 
she  was  surely  waiting  much  longer  than  she  need 
have  done.  But  at  length  she  jumped  in  and  dis- 
appeared ;  whereupon  Mr.  Parish  spent  all  the  money 
he  had  with  him  on  a  large  brandy  and  soda — hop- 
ing it  would  make  him  drunk. 

The  door  of  the  house  in  Kennington  Road 
stood  open ;  in  the  passage  Mr.  Gammon  and  Mr. 
Cheeseman  were  conversing  genially.  They 
nodded  to  Polly,  but  did  not  speak.  Passing  them 
to  the  head  of  the  kitchen  stairs,  she  called  to  Mrs. 


POLLY'S   WRATH  6l 

Bubb,  and  that  lady's  voice  summoned  her  to 
descend. 

"  Are  you  alone  ?  "  asked  Miss  Sparkes,  sharply. 

"  There's  only  Mrs.  Cheeseman." 

Polly  went  down  into  the  kitchen,  where  Mrs. 
Cheeseman,  a  stout  woman  of  slatternly  appearance, 
was  sitting  with  her  legs  crossed,  and  a  plate  of 
shrimps  in  her  lap. 

"  Have  a  shrimp,  Polly  ? "  began  Mrs.  Bubb,  anx- 
ious to  dismiss  the  memory  of  recent  discord. 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Bubb,  if  I  have  a  fancy  for 
shrimps  I  can  afford  to  buy  them  for  myself." 

"  Well,  you  are  nasty  !  Ain't  she  real  obstropo- 
lous,  Mrs.  Cheeseman  ?  I  never  know  a  nastier- 
tempered  girl  in  all  my  life,  that  I  never  did.  There's 
actially  no  living  with  her." 

"  Now  set  down,  Polly,"  urged  the  stout  woman, 
in  an  unctuous  voice.  "  Set  down,  do,  an'  take  things 
easy.  You'll  worrit  your  sweet  self  to  death  before 
you're  many  years  older,  if  you  go  on  like  this." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Mrs.  Cheeseman," 
answered  Polly,  holding  herself  very  stiff,  "  but  I 
didn't  come  here  to  set  down,  nor  to  talk  neither. 
But  I'm  glad  you're  here,  because  you'll  be  a  witness 
to  what  I  say.  I've  come  to  give  Mrs.  Bubb  a 
week's  notice.  She's  often  enough  told  me  that  she 
wants  to  keep  her  house  respectable,  and  I'm  sure 
she'll  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  people  as  don't  suit  her. 
It's  the  first  time  I  was  ever  told  that  I  disgraced  a 
'ouse,  and  I  hope  it'll  be  the  last  time  too.     When 


62  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

I  pay  my  rent  to-morrow  morning,  you'll  please  to 
understand,  Mrs.  Bubb,  that  I've  given  a  week's 
notice.  I  may  be  a  disgrace,  but  I  daresay  there's 
people  as  won't  be  ashamed  to  let  me  a  room. 
And  that's  what  I  came  to  say,  and  now  I  have  said 
it,  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman  is  a  witness." 

This  was  spoken  so  rapidly  that  it  left  Polly 
breathless  and  with  a  very  high  colour.  The  elder 
women  looked  at  each  other,  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman, 
with  a  shrimp  in  her  mouth,  resumed  the  attempt  at 
pacification. 

"  Now  see  'ere,  Polly.  You're  a  young  gyell,  my 
dear,  and  a  'andsome  gyell,  as  we  all  know,  and 
you've  only  one  fault,  which  there  ain't  no  need  to 
mention  it.  And  we're  all  fond  of  you,  Polly,  that's 
the  fact.     Ain't  we  all  fond  of  her,  Mrs.  Bubb?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  She's  very  fond  of  me  !  "  exclaimed 
the  girl.  "And  so  is  my  aunt  Louisa.  And  to 
show  it  they  go  telling  everybody  that  I  ain't  re- 
spectable— that  I'm  a  disgrace  to  a  decent  'ouse. 
D'you  think  I'll  stand  it  ?  "  Of  a  sudden  she  changed 
from  irony  to  fierceness.  "  What  do  you  mean  by 
it,  Mrs.  Bubb?  Did  you  never  hear  of  people  being 
prosecuted  for  taking  away  people's  characters? 
Just  you  mind  what  you're  about,  Mrs.  Bubb.  I  give 
you  fair  warning,  and  that's  all  I  have  to  say  to 
you. 

Having  relieved  her  feelings  with  these  and  a  few 
more  verbal  missiles,  Polly  ran  up  the  kitchen  steps. 
In  the  passage  the  two  men  were  still  conversing ; 


folly's  wrath  63 

at  sight  of  Polly  they  stopped  with  an  abruptness 
which  did  not  escape  her  observation.  No  doubt, 
she  said  to  herself,  they  had  been  talking  about  her. 
No  doubt,  too,  they  had  their  reasons  for  letting  her 
go  by,  as  before,  without  a  word.  Only  when  she 
was  half-way  up  the  first  flight  of  stairs  did  Mr. 
Cheeseman  call  to  her  a  "  Good-night,  Miss  Sparkes," 
to  which  she  made  no  reply  whatever. 

On  the  morrow  she  called  at  the  little  stationer's 
shop,  but  no  letter  awaited  her.  She  decided  to  be 
again  at  the  rendezvous  that  evening,  lest  there 
should  have  been  some  mistake  in  her  cipher  mes- 
sage ;  but  she  lingered  near  the  College  of  Surgeons 
in  vain.  Polly's  heart  sunk  as  she  went  home,  for 
to-night  there  was  no  one  to  quarrel  with.  Mrs. 
Bubb,  and  all  the  lodgers  had  shown  that  they  meant 
to  hold  aloof ;  not  even  Moggie  would  look  at  her 
or  speak  a  word.  It  was  quite  an  unprecedented 
state  of  things,  and  Polly  found  it  disagreeable. 

There  was  only  one  consolation  and  that  a  poor 
one.  She  had  received  a  letter  from  Christopher 
Parish,  a  letter  of  abject  remonstrance  and  entreaty. 
He  grovelled  at  her  feet.  He  talked  frantically  of 
poison  and  the  river.  If  she  would  but  meet  him 
and  hear  him  in  his  own  defence  !  And  Polly,  quite 
meaning  to  do  so,  gave  herself  the  pleasure  of  appear- 
ing obdurate  for  a  couple  of  days. 

At  the  theatre,  she  examined  every  row  of  spec- 
tators in  stalls  and  dress-circle,  having  her  own  reason 
for  thinking  that  she  might  discover  a  certain  face. 


64  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

But  no  such  fortune  befell  her,  and  still  no  letter 
came. 

At  home  she  suffered  increasing  discomfort.  For 
one  thing,  she  had  to  seek  her  meals  in  the  nearest 
coffee-shop,  instead  of  going  down  into  Mrs.  Bubb's 
kitchen,  and  gossiping  as  she  ate  at  the  family  deal 
table,  amid  the  dirt  and  disorder  which  custom  had 
made  pleasant.  When  in  the  house,  she  locked 
herself  in  her  bed-room,  reading  the  kind  of  print 
that  interested  her,  or  lying  in  sullen  idleness  on  the 
bed.  Numerous  as  were  her  acquaintances  else- 
where, they  did  not  compensate  her  for  the  loss  of 
domestic  habit.  As  the  week  drew  on,  she  bethought 
herself  that  she  must  look  for  new  lodgings.  In 
giving  notice  to  Mrs.  Bubb  she  had  not  believed  for 
a  moment  that  it  would  come  to  this ;  she  felt  sure 
that  her  old  friend  would  make  up  the  quarrel  and 
persuade  her  to  stay.  Nothing  of  the  kind  ;  for 
once,  she  was  taken  most  literally  at  her  word. 
There  were  moments  when  Polly  felt  disposed  to 
cry. 

It  vexed  her  much  more  than  she  would  have 
thought  to  miss  the  jocose  greetings  of  her  neigh- 
bour Mr.  Gammon.  As  usual,  he  sang  in  his  bed- 
room of  a  morning  ;  as  usual  he  shouted  orders  and 
questions  to  Moggie  ;  but  for  her  he  had  never  a 
word.  She  listened  for  him  as  he  came  out  of  the 
room,  and  once  so  far  humbled  herself  as  to  affect 
a  cough  in  his  hearing.  Mr.  Gammon  paid  no  at- 
tention. 


POLLY'S   WRATH  65 

Then  she  raged  at  him — of  course  sotto  voce. 
Many  were  the  phrases  of  abuse  softly  hurled  at  him 
as  he  passed  her  door.  The  worst  of  it  was  that 
none  of  them  seemed  really  applicable.  Her  vision 
of  the  man  defeated  all  such  contumely.  She  had 
never  disliked  Mr.  Gammon ;  oddly  enough  she 
seemed  to  think  of  him  with  a  more  decided  friend- 
liness now  that  his  conduct  demanded  her  enmity. 
She  asked  herself  whether  he  really  believed  any 
harm  of  her.  It  looked  very  much  as  if  he  did,  and 
the  thought  sometimes  kept  her  awake  for  fully  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

It  was  the  last  day  but  one  of  her  week.  To- 
morrow she  must  either  submit  to  the  degradation  of 
begging  Mrs.  Bubb's  leave  to  remain  or  pack  her  boxes 
and  have  them  removed  before  nightfall.  Worry 
had  ended  by  giving  her  a  slight  headache,  a  very 
rare  thing  indeed.  Moreover,  it  rained,  and  break- 
fast was  only  obtainable  by  walking  some  dis- 
tance. 

"  Oh,  the  beasts!  "  Polly  exclaimed  to  herself,  as 
she  pulled  on  her  boots  ;  meaning  the  inhabitants  of 
the  house  all  together. 

Mr.  Gammon  opened  his  door  and  shouted  down 
the  staircase. 

"  Moggie  !  Fry  me  three  eggs  this  morning  with 
the  bacon — do  you  hear  ?  " 

Three  eggs !  Fried  with  bacon  !  And  all  comfor- 
tably set  out  at  the  end  of  the  kitchen  table.  And 
to  think  that  she  might  be  going  down  to  breakfast 


66  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

at  the  same  time,  with  Mr.  Gammon's  jokes  for  a 

relish  ! 

"  Oh,  the  wretches !  The  mean,  selfish  brutes ! " 
She  stamped  about  the  floor,  to  ease  her  nerves, 
as  she  put  on  a  common  hat  and  an  old  jacket. 
She  unlocked  her  door  with  violence,  banged  it 
open,  and  slammed  it  to  again.  From  the  staircase 
window  she  saw  that  the  rain  was  falling  more 
heavily  and  she  could  not  wait,  for  she  felt  hungry 
— after  hearing  about  those  three  eggs.  If  she  met 
any  one  down  below  ! 

And,  as  chance  had  it,  she  met  Mrs.  Cheeseman, 
just  coming  up  to  her  room  from  the  kitchen,  with 
a  dish  of  sausages.  The  woman  grinned,  and  turned 
her  head  away.  Polly  had  never  been  so  tempted 
to  commit  an  assault ;  she  thought  with  a  burning 
brain  how  effective  would  be  one  smart  stroke  on 
the  dish  of  sausages  with  the  handle  of  her  um- 
brella. 

Still  hot  from  this  encounter,  in  the  passage  she 
came  face  to  face  with  Mrs.  Bubb.  The  landlady 
seemed  to  hesitate,  but,  before  Polly  had  gone  by, 
she  addressed  her,  with  exaggerated  politeness. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Sparkes.  So  I  s'pose  we're 
losing  you  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  Polly  replied,  from  a  parched 
throat,  glaring  at  her  enemy. 

"  Oh,  then  I'll  put  the  card  up." 

"  Do !  I  wouldn't  lose  no  time  about  it. — And 
listen  to  this,  Mrs.  Bubb.     Next  time  you  see  your 


POLLY'S   WRATH  67 

friend  Mrs.  Clover,  you  may  tell  her  that  if  she  wants 
to  know  where  her  precious  'usband  is,  she's  not  to 
ask  me,  'cos  I  wouldn't  let  her  know  not  if  she  was 
on  her  death-bed !  " 

Having  uttered  this  surprising  message,  with  point 
and  emphasis  worthy  of  its  significance,  Polly  has- 
tened from  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Bubb  stood  look- 
ing after  her  in  bewilderment. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MR.  gammon's   resolve 

Convinced  that  his  life  was  blighted,  Mr.  Gam- 
mon sang  and  whistled  with  more  than  usual  vi- 
vacity as  he  dressed  each  morning.  It  was  not  in  his 
nature  to  despond  ;  he  had  received  many  a  knock- 
down blow,  and  always  came  up  fresher  after  it. 
Mrs.  Clover's  veto  upon  his  tender  hopes  with  regard 
to  Minnie  had  not  only  distressed,  but  greatly  sur- 
prised, him ;  for  during  the  last  few  months  he  had 
often  said  to  himself  that  whether  Minnie  favoured 
his  suit  or  not,  her  mother's  good-will  was  a  cer- 
tainty. His  advances  had  been  of  the  most  delicate  ; 
no  word  of  distinct  wooing  had  passed  his  lips  ;  but 
he  thought  of  Minnie  a  great  deal,  and  came  to  the 
decision  that  in  her  the  hopes  of  his  life  were  centred. 
It  might  be  that  Minnie  had  no  inkling  of  his  in- 
tentions ;  she  was  so  modest,  so  unlike  the  every- 
day girls  who  tittered  and  ogled  with  every  mar- 
riageable man ;  on  that  very  account  he  had  made 
her  his  ideal.  And  Mrs.  Clover  would  help  him  as 
a  mother  best  knows  how.     The  shock  of  learning 

that  Mrs.  Clover  would  do  no  such  thing  utterly 
68 


MR.    gammon's   resolve  69 

confused  his  mind.  He  still  longed  for  Minnie,  yet 
seemed  of  a  sudden  hopelessly  remote  from  her. 
He  could  not  determine  whether  he  had  given  her 
up  or  not ;  he  did  not  know  whether  to  bow  before 
Mrs.  Clover,  or  to  protest  and  persevere.  He  liked 
Mrs.  Clover  far  too  much  to  be  angry  with  her ;  he 
respected  Minnie  far  too  much  to  annoy  her  by  an 
unwelcome  courtship  ;  he  wished,  in  fact,  that  he 
had  not  made  a  fool  of  himself  that  evening,  and 
wanted  things  to  be  as  they  were  before. 

In  the  meantime  he  occupied  himself  in  looking 
out  for  a  new  engagement.  Plenty  were  to  be  had, 
but  he  aimed  at  something  better  than  had  satisfied 
him  hitherto.  He  must  get  a  permanency  ;  at  his 
age,  it  was  time  he  settled  into  a  life  of  respectable 
routine.  But  for  his  foolish  habit  of  living  from 
hand  to  mouth,  now  in  this  business,  now  in  that, 
indulging  his  taste  for  variety,  Mrs.  Clover  would 
never,  he  felt  sure,  have  "  put  her  foot  down  "  in  that 
astonishing  way.  The  best  thing  he  could  do  was 
to  show  himself  in  a  new  light. 

Thanks  to  his  good-nature,  his  practicality,  and  the 
multitude  of  his  acquaintances,  all  manner  of  shift- 
less or  luckless  fellows  were  in  the  habit  of  looking 
to  him  for  advice  and  help.  As  soon  as  they  found 
themselves  adrift,  they  turned  to  Gammon.  Every- 
day he  had  a  letter  asking  him  to  find  a  "  berth"  or 
a  "  billet "  for  some  out-at-elbows  friend,  and  in  a 
surprising  number  of  cases  he  was  able  to  make  a 
useful  suggestion.    It  would  have  paid  him  to  start  an 


70  THE   TOWN  TRAVELLER 

employment  agency  ;  as  it  was,  instead  of  receiving 
fees,  he  very  often  supplied  his  friends*  immediate  ne- 
cessities  out  of  his  own  pockets.  The  more  he  earned, 
the  more  freely  he  bestowed  ;  so  that  his  occasional 
strokes  of  luck  in  commerce  were  of  no  ultimate 
benefit  to  him.  No  man  in  his  position  had  a  larger 
credit ;  for  weeks  at  a  time,  he  could  live  with- 
out cash  expenditure  ;  but  this  was  seldom  neces- 
sary. 

By  a  mental  freak  which  was  characteristic  of  him, 
he  nursed  the  thought  of  connecting  himself  with 
Messrs.  Quodlingand  Son,  oil  and  colour  merchants. 
Theirs  was  a  large  and  sound  business,  both  in  town 
and  country.  It  might  not  be  easy  to  become 
traveller  to  such  a  firm,  but  his  ingenious  mind  tossed 
and  turned  the  possibilities  of  the  case,  and  after  a 
day  or  two  spent  in  looking  up  likely  men — which 
involved  a  great  deal  of  drinking  in  a  great  variety 
of  public  resorts — he  came  across  an  elderly  traveller 
who  had  represented  Quodling  on  a  northern  cir- 
cuit, and  who  boasted  a  certain  acquaintance  with 
Quodling  the  Senior.  Thus  were  things  set  in  train. 
At  a  second  meeting  with  the  venerable  bagman — 
who  had  a  wonderful  head  for  whisky — Gammon 
acquired  so  much  technical  information  that  oil  and 
colours  might  fairly  be  set  down  among  his  numerous 
"  specialities."  Moreover,  his  friend  promised  to 
speak  a  word  for  him  in  the  right  quarter  when 
opportunity  offered. 

"  By  the  way,"    Gammon    remarked,  carelessly, 


MR.    gammon's    resolve  71 

"are  these  Quodlings  any  relation  to  Quodling  the 
silk  broker  in  the  City  ?  " 

His  companion  smiled  over  the  rim  of  a  deep 
tumbler  and  continued  to  smile  through  a  long 
draught. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  No  particular  reason.  Happened  to  know  the 
other  man — by  sight." 

"  They're  brothers — Quodling  senior  and  the 
broker." 

"  What's  the  joke  ?  "  asked  Gammon,  as  the  other 
still  smiled. 

"  Old  joke — very  old  joke.  The  two  men  just  as 
unlike  as  they  could  be — in  face,  I  mean.  I  never 
took  the  trouble  to  inquire  about  it,  but  I've  been 
told  there  was  a  lawsuit  years  ago — something  to  do 
with  the  will  of  Lord  somebody,  who  left  money  to 
old  Mrs.  Quodling — who  wasn't  old  then.  Don't 
know  the  particulars,  but  I'm  told  that  something 
turned  on  the  likeness  of  the  younger  boy  to  the 
man   who  made  the  will — see  ?" 

*'  Ah  !  Oh  !  "  muttered  Gammon,  reflectively. 

"  An  uppish,  high-notioned  fellow,  Quodling  the 
broker.  Won't  have  anything  to  do  with  his 
brother.  He's  nothing  much,  himself ;  went  through 
the  court  not  very  long  ago." 

Gammon  promised  himself  to  look  into  this  story 
when  he  had  time.  That  it  could  in  any  way  con- 
cern him,  he  did  not  seriously  suppose,  but  he  liked 
to  track  things  out.     Some  day  he  would  have  an- 


72  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

other  look  at  Quodling  the  broker,  who  so  strongly 
resembled  Mrs.  Clover's  husband.  Both  of  them, 
it  seemed,  bore  a  likeness  to  some  profligate  aristo- 
crat. Just  the  kind  of  thing  to  interest  that  queer 
fish  Greenacre. 

In  the  height  of  the  London  season,  nothing 
pleased  Gammon  more  than  to  survey  the  streets 
from  an  omnibus.  Being  just  now  a  man  of  leisure, 
he  freely  indulged  himself,  spending  an  hour  or  two 
each  day  in  the  liveliest  thoroughfares.  It  was  a 
sure  way  of  forgetting  his  cares.  Sometimes  he  took 
a  box  place  and  chatted  with  the  driver  ;  or  he  made 
acquaintances,  male  and  female,  on  the  cosy  cross- 
seats  just  broad  enough  for  two.  The  London 
panorama  under  a  sky  of  June  feasted  his  laughing 
eyes.  Now  he  would  wave  a  hand  to  a  friend  on 
the  pavement  or  borne  past  on  another  'bus ;  now 
he  would  chuckle  at  a  bit  of  comedy  in  real  life. 
Huge  hotels  and  brilliant  shops  vividly  impressed 
him,  though  he  saw  them  for  the  thousandth  time  ; 
a  new  device  in  advertising  won  his  ungrudging 
admiration.  Above  all,  he  liked  to  find  himself  in 
the  Strand,  at  that  hour  of  the  day  when  east  and 
west  show  a  double  current  of  continuous  traflfic, 
tight  wedged  in  the  narrow  street,  moving  at  a  mere 
footpace,  every  horse's  nose  touching  the  back  of 
the  next  vehicle.  The  sun  could  not  shine  too  hotly  ; 
it  made  colours  brighter,  gave  a  new  beauty  to  the 
glittering  public-houses,  where  names  of  cooling 
drinks  seemed  to  cry  aloud.     He  enjoyed  a  "  block  " 


MR.   gammon's   resolve  73 

and  was  disappointed  unless  he  saw  the  policemen 
at  Wellington  Street,  holding  up  his  hand,  whilst 
the  cross  traffic  from  north  and  south  rolled  grandly 
through.  It  aways  reminded  him  of  the  Bible  story  ; 
Moses  parting  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea. 

He  was  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  this  spectacle, 
when  an  odour  of  cloves  breathed  across  his  face, 
and  a  voice  addressed  him. 

"  Isn't  that  you,  Mr.  Gammon  ?  Well,  if  I  didn't 
think  so !  " 

The  speaker  was  a  young  woman,  who,  with  a  male 
companion,  had  just  mounted  the  'bus  and  seated 
herself  at  Gammon's  back.  Facing  round,  he  re- 
cognised her  as  a  friend  of  Polly  Sparkes,  Miss 
Waghorn  by  name,  who  adorned  a  refreshment  bar 
at  the  theatre  where  Polly  sold  programmes.  With  a 
marked  display  of  interesting  embarrassment,  Miss 
Waghorn  introduced  him  to  her  companion,  Mr. 
Nibby,  who  showed  himself  cordial. 

"  I've  often  heard  talk  of  you,  Mr.  Gammon — glad 
to  meet  you,  sir.  I  think  it's  Berlin  wools,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Well  it  was,  sir,  but  it's  been  fancy  leather  goods 
lately,  and  now  it's  going  to  be  something  else. 
You  are  the  Gillingwater  burners,  I  believe,  sir." 

Mr.  Nibby  betrayed  surprise. 

"  And  may  I  ask  you  how  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  a  good  memory  for  faces — I  travelled 
with  you  on  the  underground  not  very  long  ago, 
and  saw  the  name  on  some  samples  you  had." 


74  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Now,  that's  what  I  call  smart  observation, 
Carrie,"  said  the  GilHngwater  burners,  beaming  upon 
Miss  Waghorn. 

"  Oh,  we  all  know  that  Mr.  Gammon's  more  than 
seven,"  replied  the  young  lady,  with  a  throaty  laugh  ; 
and  her  joke  was  admirably  received, 

"  Business  good,  sir?"  asked  Gammon. 

"  Not  bad  for  the  time  of  year,  sir — Is  it  true,  do 
you  know,  that  Milligan  of  Bishopsgate  has  burst 
up?" 

"  I  heard  so  yesterday.  Not  surprised.  Business 
very  badly  managed.  Great  shame  too,  for  I  know 
he  got  it  very  cheap,  and  there  was  a  fortune  in  it. 
Two  years  ago  I  could  have  bought  the  whole  con- 
cern for  a  couple  of  thousand." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

Mr.  Gammon  was  often  heard  to  remark  that  he 
could  have  bought  this,  that  or  the  other  thing  for 
something  paltry,  such  as  a  couple  of  thousands.  It 
was  not  idle  boasting  ;  such  opportunities  had  indeed 
come  in  his  way,  and  with  his  generous  optimism,  he 
was  content  to  ignore  the  fact  that  only  the  money 
was  wanting. 

"  What's  wrong  with  Polly  Sparkes  ?  "  inquired 
the  young  lady  presently,  again  sending  a  waft  of 
cloves  into  Gammon's  face. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know."  he  answered  fa- 
cetiously. 

"  She's  awful  cut  up  about  something.  I  thought 
you  was  sure  to  know  what  it  was,  Mr.  Gammon. 


MR.  gammon's  resolve  75 

She  says  a  lot  of  you  has  been  using  her  shime- 
ful," 

"  Oh,  she  does,  does  she  ?  " 

"  You  should  hear  her  talk !  Now  it's  her  land- 
lady— now  it's  her  awnt — now  it's  I  don't  know  who. 
To  hear  her,  she's  been  used  shimeful.  She  says 
she's  been  drove  out  of  the  'ouse.  I  didn't  think  it 
ol  you,  Mr.  Gammon.'  " 

At  the  moment  the  'bus  was  drawing  slowly  near 
to  a  popular  wine-shop.  Mr.  Nibby  whispered  to 
Miss  Waghorn,  who  dropped  her  eyes  and  looked 
demure  ;  whereupon  he  addressed  Gammon. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  a  glass  of  dry  sherry, 
sir  ?  " 

"  Right  you  are,  sir  !  " 

So  the  omnibus  was  stopped  to  allow  Miss  Wag- 
horn  to  alight,  and  all  three  turned  into  the  wine- 
shop. Dry  sherry  not  being  to  Miss  Waghorn's 
taste  she  chose  sweet  port,  drinking  it  as  one  to  the 
manner  born,  and  talking  the  while  in  hoarse 
whispers,  with  now  and  then  an  outburst  of  shrill 
laughter.  The  dark  narrow  space  before  the  counter, 
or  bar,  was  divided  off  with  wooden  partitions,  as  at 
a  pawnbroker's  ;  each  compartment  had  a  high  stool 
for  the  luxuriously  inclined,  and  along  the  wall  ran 
a  bare  wooden  bench.  Not  easily  could  a  less  invit- 
ing place  of  refreshment  have  been  constructed,  but 
no  such  thought  occurred  to  its  frequenters,  who 
at  this  house  were  numerous,  squeezed  together  in 
a  stifling  atmosphere  of  gas  and  alcohol,  with  noth- 


76  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

ing  to  look  at  but  the  row  of  great  barrels  whence 
the  wine  was  drawn,  these  merry  folk  quenched  their 
midsummer  thirst,  and  gave  their  wits  a  jog,  and 
drank  goodfellowship,  with  merciless  ill-usage  of  the 
Queen's  English,  Miss  Waghorn  talked  freely  of 
Polly  Sparkes,  repeating  all  the  angry  things  that 
Polly  had  said,  and  persistently  wanting  to  know 
what  the  "  Bother  "  was  all  about. 

"  It's  for  her  own  good"  said  Gammon,  with  sig- 
nificant brevity. 

He  did  not  choose  to  say  more,  or  to  ask  any  ques- 
tions which  might  turn  to  Polly's  disadvantage.  For 
his  own  part,  he  seldom  gave  a  thought  to  the  girl, 
and  was  far  from  imagining  that  she  cared  whether 
he  kept  on  friendly  terms  with  her  or  not.  At  his 
landlady's  suggestion,  he  had  joined  in  the  domestic 
plot  for  sending  Polly  "  to  Coventry  " — a  phrase,  by 
the  by,  which  would  hardly  have  been  understood  in 
Mrs.  Bubb's  household;  he  argued  that  it  might  do 
her  good,  and  that  in  any  case  some  such  demonstra- 
tion was  called  for  by  her  outrageous  temper.  If 
Polly  could  not  get  on  with  people  who  were 
sincerely  her  friends  and  had  always  wished  her  well, 
let  her  go  elsewhere  and  exercise  her  ill-humour  on 
strangers.  Gammon  did  not  believe  that  she  would 
go ;  day  after  day  he  expected  to  hear  that  the 
quarrel  was  made  up  and  that  Polly  had  cleared  her 
reputation  by  a  few  plain  words. 

But  this  was  the  last  day  save  one  of  Polly's  week, 
and  as  yet  she  had  given  no  sign.     On  coming  down 


MR.  gammon's  resolve  77 

into  the  kitchen  to  discuss  his  fried  eggs  and  bacon, 
he  saw  at  once  that  Mrs.  Bubb  was  seriously  per- 
turbed ;  with  buffings  and  cuffings — a  most  unusual 
thing — she  had  just  despatched  her  children  to  school 
and  was  now  in  conflict  with  Moggie  about  a  broken 
pie-dish,  which  the  guilty  general  had  concealed  in 
the  backyard.  A  prudent  man  in  the  face  of  such 
tempers,  Gammon  sat  down  without  speaking,  and 
fell  to  on  the  viands  which  Mrs.  Bubb,  also  silent, 
set  before  him.  In  a  minute  or  two  having  got  rid 
of  Moggie,  and  closed  the  kitchen  door,  Mrs.  Bubb 
came  near  and  addressed  him  with  subdued  voice : 

"  What  d'you  think  ?     It's  her  uncle— it's  Clover !  " 

"Eh?     What  is?" 

"  Why,  it's  him  as  'as  been  giving  her  things." 

"Has  she  said  so?"  asked  Gammon,  with  eager 
interest. 

"  I  met  her  as  she  was  coming  down,  just  now,  and 
she  was  in  a  tearin'  rage,  and  she  says  to  me,  she 
says,  '  When  you  see  my  awnt,'  she  says,  '  you  tell 
her  I  know  all  about  her  'usband,  and  that  I  wouldn't 
tell  her  anything  not  if  she  went  down  on  her  bended 
knees  !    There  now  !  '  " 

The  uneducated  man  may  perchance  repeat  with 
exactness  something  that  has  been  said  to  him,  or  in 
his  hearing;  for  the  uneducated  woman  such 
accuracy  is  impossible.  Mrs.  Bubb  meant  to  be 
strictly  truthful ;  but  in  the  nature  of  things  she 
would  have  gone  astray  even  had  Polly's  message 
taken  a  much  simpler  form  than  wrathful  sarcasm 


78  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

gave  to  it.  However,  she  conveyed  the  spirit  of 
Polly's  words  and  Gammon  was  so  excited  by  the 
report  that  he  sprang  up,  overturning  his  cup  of 
coffee. 

"Oh,  cuss  it!  Nevermind;  most'sgoneon  tomy 
trousers.  She  said  that  ?  And  to  think  we  never 
thought  of  it !  Where  is  she  ?  When'll  she  be 
back?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  she  says  she's  going  to  leave 
to-morrow,  and  looks  as  if  she  meant  it,  too.  Hadn't 
I  better  send  to  Mrs.  Clover?  " 

Gammon  reflected. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  send  and  ask  her  to  come  here 
to-night,  say  it's  very  important.  We'll  have  them 
face  to  face,  by  jorrocks,  we  will !  " 

"  Polly  mayn't  be  'ome  before  half-past  ten  or 
eleven." 

"  Never  mind.  I  tell  you  we'll  have  them  face  to 
face.  If  it  comes  to  that,  I'll  pay  for  a  cab  for  Mrs. 
Clover  to  go  home  in.  Tell  her  to  be  here  at  eight. 
Stop,  you  mustn't  have  the  trouble  ;  I  can  very  well 
go  round  myself.  Yes,  I'll  go  myself,  and  arrange 
it. 

"  It  may  be  a  lie,"  remarked  Mrs.  Bubb. 

"  So  it  may  be — but  somehow  I  don't  think  so. 
The  rummiest  thing  that  ever  came  into  my  head  ! 
I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  Clover  ain't  living  in 
Belgrave  Square,  or  some  such  place.  Just  the  kind 
of  thing  that  happens  with  these  mysterious  John- 
nies.    She'll  have  come  across  him  somewhere,  and 


MR.  gammon's  resolve  79 

he's  bribed  her  to  keep  it  dark — see  ?  What  a  goose- 
berry I  was  never  to  think  of  it !  We'll  have  'em 
face  to  face !  " 

"  Suppose  Polly  won't  ?  " 

"Won't?  Gosh!  but  she  shall\  If  I  have  to 
carry  her  downstairs  she  shall !  Think  we're  going 
toilet  her  keep  a  thing  like  this  to  herself?  You 
just  wait  and  see.  Leave  it  to  me,  that's  all.  Lucky 
there's  only  friends  in  the  house.  Polly  likes  a  row, 
and,  by  jorrocks,  she  shall  have  one  !  " 


CHAPTER  IX 
Polly's  defiance 

Content  with  her  four  lodgers,  Mrs.  Bubb  re- 
served the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  for  her  own  use. 
In  that  at  the  back  she  slept  with  the  two  younger 
children  ;  the  other  two  had  a  little  bed  in  the  front 
room,  which,  during  the  daytime,  served  as  a  par- 
lour. On  occasions  of  ceremony,  when  the  parlour 
was  needed  in  the  evening,  the  children  slept  in  a 
bare  attic  next  to  that  occupied  by  Moggie  ;  and 
this  they  looked  upon  as  a  treat,  for  it  removed 
them  from  their  mother's  observation,  and  gave  op- 
portunities for  all  sorts  of  adventurous  pranks. 

Thus  were  things  arranged  for  to-night.  Mrs. 
Bubb  swept  and  garnished  her  parlour,  for  the  be- 
coming reception  of  a  visitor  whom  she  could  not 
but  "look  up  to."  Mrs.  Clover's  origin  was  as 
humble  as  her  own,  and  her  education  not  much 
better  ;  but  natural  gifts  and  worldly  circumstances 
had  set  a  distance  between  them.  Partly,  perhaps, 
because  she  was  the  widow  of  a  police  constable, 
Mrs.  Bubb  gave  all  due  weight  to  social  distinctions  ; 

she  knew  her  "  place  "  ;  and  was  incapable  of  pre- 
80 


POLLY'S   DEFIANCE  8l 

suming.  With  Polly  Sparkes  she  did  not  hesitate 
to  use  freedom  ;  for  Polly  could  not  pretend  to  be 
on  a  social  level  with  her  aunt,  and,  as  a  young  girl 
of  unformed  character,  naturally  owed  deference  to 
an  experienced  matron  who  took  a  kindly  interest 
in  her. 

There  had  been  some  question  of  inviting  Mr. 
Sparkes,  but  Mr.  Gammon  spoke  against  it.  No  ; 
let  Polly  have  a  fair  chance,  first  of  all,  of  unbosom- 
ing herself  before  her  aunt  and  her  landlady.  If 
she  refused  to  do  so,  why  then  other  steps  must  be 
taken. 

Gammon  passed  the  day  in  high  spirits,  which, 
with  the  aid  of  seasonable  beverages,  tended  to  hi- 
larious excitement.  The  thing  was  going  to  be  as 
good  as  a  play.  In  his  short  dialogue  with  Mrs. 
Clover,  he  withheld  from  her  the  moving  facts  of  the 
case,  telling  her  only  that  her  niece  was  going  to 
quit  Mrs.  Bubb's  and  that  it  behoved  her  to  assist  in 
a  final  appeal  to  the  girl's  better  feelings.  His  own 
part  in  the  affair  was  merely,  he  explained,  that  of 
a  messenger,  sent  to  urge  the  invitation.  Mrs.  Clover 
willingly  consented  to  come.  Not  a  word  passed 
between  them  with  reference  to  their  last  conversa- 
tion, but  Mr.  Gammon  made  it  plain  that  he  nursed 
no  resentment,  and  the  lady  of  the  china-shop  be- 
haved very  amicably  indeed. 

At  six  o'clock,  Polly  came  home  to  dress  for  the 
theatre.  She  left  again,  having  spoken  to  no  one. 
Soon  afterwards,  Gammon,  who  in  fact  had  watched 
6 


82  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

for  her  departure,  entered  the  house  and  held  a 
conversation  with  Mrs.  Bubb  in  the  parlour,  where 
already  the  table  was  laid  for  supper  at  half-past 
eight.  Scarcely  had  eight  struck,  when  Mrs.  Clover, 
who  had  alighted  from  an  omnibus,  sounded  her 
pleasant  rat-tat — self-respecting,  and  such  as  did 
credit  to  the  house,  but  with  no  suggestion  of  arrog- 
ance. As  her  habit  was,  she  kissed  Mrs.  Bubb  ;  a 
very  kindly  and  gracious  thing  to  do.  She  asked  after 
the  children,  and  was  sorry -she  could  not  see  them. 
In  her  attire,  Mrs.  Clover  preserved  the  same  happy 
medium  as  in  her  way  of  plying  the  knocker ;  it  was 
sufficiently  elaborate  to  show  consideration  for  her 
hostess,  yet  not  so  grand  as  to  overwhelm  by  con- 
trast. She  looked,  indeed,  so  pleasant,  and  so  fresh, 
and  so  young,  that  it  was  as  difficult  to  remember 
the  troubles  of  her  life  as  it  was  to  bear  in  mind  that 
she  had  a  daughter  seventeen  years  of  age.  Mr. 
Gammon,  who  made  up  a  trio  at  the  supper-table, 
put  on  his  best  behaviour.  It  might  perhaps  have 
been  suspected  that  he  had  quenched  his  thirst 
more  often  than  was  needful  on  a  day  of  showers  and 
falling  temperature,  but  at  supper  he  drank  only  two 
glasses  of  mild  ale,  and  casually  remarked,  as  he 
poured  out  the  second,  that  he  had  serious  thoughts 
of  becoming  a  total  abstainer. 

"  You  might  do  worse  than  that,"  said  Mrs.  Clover 
meaningly  but  with  good-nature. 

"  You  think  so  ?  Say  the  word,  Mrs.  Clover,  and 
ril  do  it." 


folly's  defiance  83 

"  I  sha'n't  say  the  word,  because  I  know  you 
couldn't  live  without  a  glass  of  beer.  There's  no 
harm  in  that.     But  wh°n — " 

The  remark  was  left  incomplete. 

"  Hush !  "  came  from  Mrs.  Bubb,  in  the  same 
moment.     "  Wasn't  that  the  front  door  ?  " 

All  listened.  A  heavy  step  was  ascending  the 
stairs. 

"  Only  Mr.  Cheeseman,"  said  the  landlady,  with  a 
sigh  of  agitation.  "  Of  course  it  couldn't  be  Polly 
yet." 

Not  till  the  repast  was  comfortably  despatched  did 
Mr.  Gammon  give  a  sign  that  it  might  now  be  well 
to  inform  Mrs.  Clover  of  what  had  happened.  He 
nodded  gravely  to  Mrs.  Bubb,  who,  with  unaffected 
nervousness,  causing  her  to  ramble  and  stumble  for 
many  minutes  in  mazes  of  circumlocution,  at  length 
conveyed  the  fact  to  her  anxious  listener  that  Polly 
Sparkes  had  said  something  or  other  which  implied 
a  knowledge  of  Mr.  Clover's  whereabouts.  Com- 
mitted to  this  central  fact,  and  urged  by  Mrs. 
Clover's  growing  impatience,  the  good  woman  came 
out  at  length  with  her  latest  version  of  Polly's 
remarkable  utterance. 

"  And  what  she  said  was  this,  Mrs.  Clover,  '  When 
next  you  goes  tale-telling  to  my  awnt,'  she  says, — 
just  as  nasty  as  she  could — '  when  next  you  goes 
making  trouble  with  my  awnt  Louisa,'  she  says, '  you 
can  tell  her,'  she  says,  '  that  there's  nobody  but  me 
knows  where  her  'usband  is,  and  what  he's  a-doin' 


84  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

of ;  but  I  wouldn't  let  her  know,'  she  says,  *  not  if  it 
was  to  save  her  from  death  and  burial  in  the  work'us !  * 
— That's  what  Polly  said  to  xne  this  very  morning, 
and  the  words  made  that  impression  on  my  mind 
that  I  shall  never  forget  them  to  the  last  day  of  my 
life." 

"  Did  you  ever  ! "  exclaimed,  or  rather  murmured, 
Mrs.  Clover  ;  for  she  was  astonished  and  agitated. 
Her  face  lost  its  wholesome  tone  for  a  moment  ;  her 
hands  moved  as  if  to  repel  something  ;  and  at  length 
she  sat  quite  still,  gazing  at  Mrs.  Bubb. 

"  And  don't  you  think  it  queer,"  put  in  Mr.  Gam- 
mon, "that  we  never  hit  on  that?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  should  never  have  thought  of  such  a 
thing,"  replied  Mrs.  Clover,  heavily,  despondently. 

"  And  who  knows,"  cried  Mrs.  Bubb,  "  whether  it's 
true  after  all  ?  Polly's  been  that  nasty,  how  if  she's 
made  it  up,  just  to  spite  us?" 

Mrs.  Clover  nodded  and  seemed  to  find  relief. 

"  I  shouldn't  a  bit  wonder.  How  should  Polly 
know  about  him.  It  seems  to  me  a  most  unlikely 
thing — the  most  unlikely  thing  I  ever  heard  of.  I 
shall  never  believe  it,  till  she's  proved  her  words.  I 
won't  believe  it — I  can't  believe  it — never  !  " 

Her  voice  rose  on  tremulous  notes  ;  her  eyes  wan- 
dered disdainfully.  She  looked  at  Gammon,  and 
immediately  looked  away  again.  He,  as  though  in 
answer  to  an  appeal,  spoke  with  decision. 

"  What  we're  here  for,  Mrs.  Clover,  is  to  put 
Polly  face  to  face  with  you  and  so  get  the  truth  out 


Polly's  defiance  85 

of  her.  That  we  will  do,  cost  what  it  may.  We're 
not  going  to  have  that  girl  make  trouble  and  disturb- 
ance just  to  please  herself.  I  don't  want  to  poke 
myself  into  other  people's  business,  and  I'm  sure 
you  won't  think  I  do — " 

"  Of  course  not,  Mr.  Gammon.  'Tain't  likely  I 
should  think  so  of  you." 

"  You  know  me  better.  I  was  just  going  to  say 
that  I'm  a  man  of  business  and  perhaps  I  can  help 
to  clear  up  this  job  in  a  business-like  way.  That's 
what  I'm  here  for.  If  I  didn't  think  I  could  be  of 
some  use  to  you,  I  should  make  myself  scarce. 
What  I  propose  is  this,  Mrs.  Glover.  When  Polly 
comes  in — never  mind  how  late  it  is  ;  I'll  see  you  safe 
'ome — let  her  get  up-stairs  ;  just  as  usual.  Then  you 
go  up  to  her  door  and  you  knock  and  you  just  say  : 
— "  Polly,  it's  me,  and  I  want  a  word  with  you  ;  let 
me  come  in,  please  ?  "  If  she  lets  you  in  ;  all  right ; 
have  a  talk,  and  see  what  comes  of  it.  If  she  won't 
let  you  in,  just  come  down  again,  and  let  us  know; 
and  then  we'll  think  what's  to  be  done  next." 

This  suggestion  was  approved,  and  time  went  on 
as  the  three  discussed  the  mystery  from  every  point 
of  view.  At  about  ten  o'clock,  Mrs.  Bubb's  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  a  latch-key  at  the  front  door. 
She  started  up,  her  companions  did  the  same.  By 
opening  the  door  of  the  parlour  an  inch  or  two,  it  was 
ascertained  that  a  person  had  entered  the  house  and 
gone  quickly  up-stairs.  This  could  only  be  Polly, 
for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman  were  together  in  their 


86  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

sitting-room  above,  their  voices  audible  from  time 
to  time. 

"  Now  then,  Mrs.  Clover,"  said  Gammon,  "  up  you 
go.  Don't  be  nervous.  It's  only  Polly  Sparkes, 
and  she's  more  call  to  be  afraid  of  you,  than  you  of 
her." 

"  I  should  think  so,  indeed,"  assented  Mrs.  Bubb. 
"  Don't  give  way,  my  dear.  Whativeryou  do,  don't 
give  way.  I'm  sure  I  feel  for  you.  It's  fair  crool, 
it  is. 

Mrs,  Clover  said  nothing  and  made  a  great  effort 
to  command  herself.  Her  friends  escorted  her  to 
the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman  had 
their  door  ajar,  knowing  well  what  was  in  progress, 
for  the  landlady  had  not  been  able  to  keep  her  coun- 
sel at  such  a  dramatic  crisis ;  but  fortunately  Mrs. 
Clover  was  unaware  of  this.  With  light,  quick  foot 
she  mounted  the  flights  of  stairs,  and  knocked  softly 
at  Polly's  door. 

"  Well  ?  Who's  that  ?  "  sounded  in  a  careless 
voice. 

"  It's  me,  Polly — your  aunt  Louisa.  Will  you 
let  me  come  in  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

The  tone  of  the  inquiry  was  not  encouraging,  and 
Mrs.  Clover  delayed  a  moment  before  she  spoke 
again. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Polly,"  she  said  at 
length,  with  firmness.  "You  know  what  it's  about. 
— Let  me  come  in,  please." 


Polly's  defiance  87 

**  I've  got  nothing  to  say  to  you  about  any- 
thing," answered  Polly,  in  a  tone  of  unmistakable 
decision.  "  You're  only  wasting  your  time,  and  the 
sooner  you  go  'ome,  the  better." 

She  spoke  near  to  the  door,  and  with  her  last  word 
sharply  turned  the  key.  Only  just  in  time,  for  Mrs. 
JZllover  was  that  moment  trying  the  handle ;  when 
she  heard  the  excluding  snap,  natural  feeling  so  much 
prevailed  with  her  that  she  gave  the  door  a  shake. 
Whereat  her  niece  laughed. 

"  You're  a  bad — wicked — deceitful  girl !  "  exclaim- 
ed Mrs.  Clover,  hotly.  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  you 
said — not  a  word  !  You're  going  to  the  bad  as  fast 
as  ever  you  can — and  you  know  it — and  you  don't 
care — and  I'm  sure  I  don't  care  !  Somebody  ought 
to  box  your  ears  soundly.  Miss.  I  wouldn't  have 
such  a  temper  as  yours  not  for  untold  money.  And 
when  you  want  a  friend,  and  haven't  a  penny  in  the 
world,  don't  come  to  me,  because  I  won't  look  at 
you,  and  won't  own  you.  And  remember,  that, 
Miss!" 

Again  Polly  laughed,  this  time  in  high  notes  of 
wrathful  derision.  Before  the  sound  had  died  away, 
Mrs.  Clover  was  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  where 
Gammon  and  Mrs.  Bubb  awaited  her. 

"  It's  all  a  make  up,"  she  declared  vehemently. 
"  I  won't  believe  a  word  of  it.  She's  made  fools  of 
us — the  nasty,  ill-natured  thing  !  " 

Trembling  with  excitement,  she  was  obliged  to  sit 
down  in  the  parlour,  whilst  Mrs.  Bubb  hovered  about 


88  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

her  with  indignant  consolation.  Gammon,  silent  as 
yet,  stood  looking  on.  As  he  watched  Mrs.  Clover's 
countenance,  his  own  underwent  a  change ;  there 
was  a  ruffling  of  the  brows,  a  working  of  the  lips, 
and  in  his  good-humoured  blue  eyes  a  twinkling  of 
half-amused,  half-angry  determination. 

"  Look  here,"  he  began,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
his  side  pockets.  "  You've  come  all  this  way,  Mrs. 
Clover,  to  see  Polly,  and  see  her  you  shall." 

"  I  don't  want  to,  Mr.  Gammon  !  I  couldn't — " 

"  Now  steady  a  bit — quiet — don't  lose  your  head. 
Whether  you  want  to  see  her  or  not,  I  want  you  to, 
and  what's  more  you  shall  see  her.  If  Polly's  try- 
ing to  make  fools  of  us,  she  sha'n't  have  all  the  fun. 
If  she's  telling  the  truth,  she  shall  have  a  fair  chance 
of  proving  it  ;  if  she's  lying  we'll  have  a  jolly  good 
try  to  make  her  jolly  well  ashamed  of  herself.  See 
here,  Mrs.  Bubb ;  will  you  do  as  I  ask  you  ?  " 

"And  what's  that,  Mr.  Gammon?"  asked  the 
landlady,  eager  to  show  her  spirit. 

"  You  go  up  to  Polly's  room,  and  you  say  this : 
'  Miss  Sparkes,'  you  say,  '  you've  got  to  come  down- 
stairs and  see  your  aunt.  If  you'll  come  quiet,  well 
and  good.  If  you  won't,  I've  just  got  to  tell  you 
that  the  lock  on  your  door  is  easy  forced,  and  ex- 
pense sha'n't  stand  in  the  way.'  Now  you  just  go 
and  say  that." 

Mrs.  Bubb  and  Mrs.  Clover  exchanged  glances. 
Both  were  plainly  impressed  by  this  masculine 
suggestion,  but  they  hesitated. 


POLLY'S   DEFIANCE  89 

"  I  don't  want  to  make  an  upset  in  the  house," 
said  Mrs.  Clover.  "  There  isn't  a  word  of  truth  in 
what  she  said,  I  feel  sure  of  that,  and  it's  no  use — " 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  Gammon  interposed,  "  I'm  not 
at  all  sure  about  that.  It  seems  to  me  just  as  likely 
as  not  that  she  has  come  across  Mr.  Clover — just  as 
likely  as  not  !  " 

'  Angry  agitation  took  hold  again  of  Polly's  aunt, 
who  was  very  easily  swayed  by  an  opinion  from  Mr. 
Gammon.  The  landlady,  too,  gave  willing  ear  to 
his  words. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  asked,  "  that  we  should 
really  break  the  door  open  ?  " 

"I  do  ;  and  what's  more,  I'll  pay  the  damage. 
Go  up,  Mrs.  Bubb,  and  just  say  what  I  told  you, 
and  let's  see  how  she  takes  it." 

Mrs.  Clover  began  a  faint  objection,  but  Mrs. 
Bubb  did  not  heed  it.  Her  face  set  in  the  joy  of 
battle,  she  turned  from  the  room  and  ran  up-stairs. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  STORMING  OF  THE   FORT 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman,  squeezed  together  at 
their  partly  open  door,  were  following  the  course  of 
events  with  a  delighted  eagerness  which  threatened 
to  break  all  bounds  of  discretion.  Their  grinning 
faces  signalled  to  Mrs.  Bubb  as  she  went  by,  and 
she,  no  less  animated,  waved  a  hand  to  them,  as  if 
promising  richer  entertainment.  The  next  minute 
she  was  heard  parleying  with  Miss  Sparkes.  Polly 
received  her,  as  was  to  be  expected,  with  acrimoni- 
ous defiance. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it,  Mrs.  Bubb!  Go  and  clean  up 
your  dirty  kitchen.     It'll  take  you  all  your  time," 

There  needed  but  this  to  fire  the  landlady  to  ex- 
tremities. Her  answer  rang  through  the  house. 
Dirty  kitchen,  indeed  !  And  how  many  meals  had 
Miss  Sparkes  eaten  there  at  cost  price — aye,  often 
for  nothing  at  all  ?  And  who  was  it  as  made  most 
dirt — coming  in  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night  from 
running  about  the  streets  ? 

"  Very  well,  my  lady !     Are  you  going  to  turn 

that  key  or  not  ?    That's  all  I  want  to  know." 
90 


THE   STORMING   OF   THE    FORT  91 

"  I'll  have  pity  on  your  ignorance,"  replied  Polly, 
"  and  tell  you  more  than  that.  I'm  going  to  bed, 
and  going  to  try  to  get  to  sleep,  if  there's  any  chance 
of  it  in  a  'ouse  like  this,  which  might  be  a  'sylum  for 
inebriates." 

Mrs.  Bubb  laughed — the  strangest  laugh  ever  heard 
from  her  respectable  lips.  Words  were  needless,  and 
m  a  few  seconds  she  panted  before  her  friends  down- 
stairs. 

"  She  says  she's  a-goin'  to  bed.  Of  all  the  shime- 
less  creatures !  Called  me  every  nime  she  could 
turn  her  tongue  to  !  And  wouldn't  open  her  door 
not  if  the  'ouse  was  burning — do  you  hear  her?" 

Mr.  Gammon  buttoned  his  coat  from  top  to 
bottom,  smoothed  his  moustache  and  his  side 
whiskers,  and  had  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  in  readi- 
ness for  stern  duty. 

"  I  want  both  of  you  to  come  up  with  me,"  he  said 
quietly. 

Mrs.  Clover  began  to  look  alarmed,  even  embar- 
rassed. 

"  But  perhaps  she's  really  going  to  bed — " 

"  All  right.  She  shall  have  time."  He  nodded, 
laughing.  "  I  want  both  of  you  to  come  up  to  see 
fair  play." 

"  But,  Mr.  Gammon,  I  shouldn't  like—" 

"Mrs.  Clover,  you've  come  here  to  see  Polly — and 
you've  a  right  to  see  Polly — and  by  jorrocks,  you 
shall  see  Polly  !  Follow  me  up-stairs.  I've  said  all 
that  need  be  said  ;  now  to  business." 


92  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

They  ascended  ;  Gammon  three  steps  at  a  stride, 
the  others  in  a  hurry  and  a  flutter.  Light  streamed 
from  the  Cheesemans'  room  ;  the  first-floor  lodgers, 
incapable  any  longer  of  self-restraint,  were  out  on 
the  landing.  On  the  next  floor  it  was  dark,  but  Mr. 
Gammon  saw  a  gleam  along  the  bottom  of  Polly's 
door.  He  knocked — the  knock  of  a  policeman 
armed  with  a  warrant. 

"  Miss  Sparkes  !  " 

"  Oh,  it's  you  this  time,  is  it?  Come  just  to  say 
good-night  ?     You  needn't  have  put  yourself  out. 

"  Miss  Sparkes — are  you  in  your  proper  dress?" 

"  What  d'you  mean  ?  "  Polly  answered  resentfully, 
"  You've  been  drinking  again,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear.  I  asked  you  for  a  good 
and  sufficient  reason.  I'm  going  to  break  your  door 
open,  that's  all,  and  I  wish  to  give  you  fair  warning. 
Are  you  dressed  or  not?" 

"  Impudent  wretch  !  What  are  you  doing  here? 
What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  " 

"  I'm  the  only  strong  man  handy,  that's  all.  Paid 
for  the  job,  being  out  of  work  just  now." 

Mrs.  Bubb  tittered,  Mrs.  Cheeseman,  down  below, 
choked  audibly.  "  Will  you  answer  that  question 
or  not? — Very  good  ;  I  give  you  till  I've  counted 
fifty,  slow.  When  I  say  fifty,  bang  goes  the  bloom- 
in'  door." 

Amid  an  awful  silence,  enveloped  as  it  were  by 
the  dull  rumbling  of  vehicles  without,  Mr.  Gammon's 
voice  began  counting.     He  expected  to  hear  Polly's 


THE    STORMING   OF   THE   FORT  93 

key  turn  in  the  lock ;  so  did  Mrs.  Bubb  and  Mrs. 
Clover,     But  the  key  moved  not. 

"—forty-eight — forty-nine— ///j  !  " 

Gammon  drew  back  to  give  himself  impetus,  and 
rushed  against  the  door.  With  raised  foot,  he 
struck  it  just  by  the  handle,  and  the  house  seemed 
to  quiver.  A  second  assault  was  successful  ;  with 
crash  and  splintering,  the  lock  yielded,  the  door  flew 
open.  At  the  far  side  of  the  room  stood  Polly,  but 
in  no  attitude  of  surrender ;  she  held  a  clothes- 
brush,  and  as  soon  as  the  assailant  showed  himself, 
flung  it  violently  at  his  head.  Another  missile 
would  have  followed,  but  Gammon  was  too  quick, 
with  a  red-Indian  yell  of  victory,  he  crossed  the  floor 
at  one  b^und,  and  had  Polly  in  his  arms. 

"  Look  out,  ladies  !  "  he  shouted.  "  See  fair 
play  ?  ^' 

Mrs.  Bubb  vented  her  emotions  in  "Oh,  my!" 
and  "  Did  you  iver  !  "  with  little  screams  of  excite- 
ment varying  on  sheer  laughter.  It  avenged  her 
delightfully  to  see  Miss  Sparkes  gripped  by  the  waist 
and  hoisted  for  removal.  But  Mrs.  Clover  was  evi- 
dently possessed  by  very  different  feelings  ;  drawing 
back  as  if  in  alarm  or  shame,  a  glow  on  each  cheek, 
she  uttered  an  involuntary  cry  of  protest. 

"  No — Mr.  Gammon  !     I  can't  have  that  !  " 

It  was  doubtful  whether  the  champion  heard,  for 
he  unmistakably  had  his  work  set.  Tooth  and  nail, 
Polly  contested  every  inch  of  ground.  One  moment 
her  little  fists  were  pummelling  Gammon  in  the  face  ; 


94  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

the  next,  she  tugged  at  his  hair ;  then  again  she 
scratched  and  kicked  simultaneously,  her  voice  mean- 
while screaming  insult  and  menace  which  must  have 
been  audible  in  the  neighbours'  houses. 

"  Stop  !  "  entreated  Mrs.  Clover.  "  Put  her  down 
at  once  !  "  she  commanded.  "  Do  you  hear  me,  Mr. 
Gammon  ! " 

Whether  he  did  or  not,  the  bold  bagman  paid  no 
heed.  He  had  at  length  a  firmer  grip  of  Polly,  with 
one  of  her  arms  imprisoned.  He  neared  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  the  women  falling  back  before  him. 

"  Mind  what  you're  up  to,"  he  was  heard  to  shout, 
good-humouredly  as  ever.  "  If  you  trip  me,  we  shall 
both  break  our  blessed  necks." 

"  How  dare  you  !  "  shrieked  the  voice  of  the  cap- 
tive, now  growing  hoarse.  "  I'll  give  you  in  charge 
the  minute  I  get  downstairs !  Ugly  beast !  I'll  give 
you  all  in  charge  !  " 

The  descent  began.  But  that  Polly  was  slightly 
made,  a  man  of  Gammon's  physique  would  have 
found  it  impossible  to  carry  her  down  the  stairs ;  as 
it  was,  he  soon  began  puffing  and  groaning.  In 
spite  of  the  risk,  Polly  still  struggled,  two  stair  rail- 
ings were  wrenched  away  on  the  first  flight.  Then 
appeared  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman,  red  and  perspir- 
ing with  muffled  laughter. 

"  You  may  laugh,  you  wretches  !  "  Polly  shrieked. 
"  I'll  give  you  all  in  charge,  see  if  I  don't.  You've 
all  took  part  in  an  assault — see  what  you'll  get 
for  it  !  " 


THE    STORMING   OF  THE    FORT  95 

After  that,  she  no  longer  resisted,  except  for  an 
occasional  kick  on  her  bearer's  shins.  They  reached 
the  ground  floor,  they  tottered  into  the  parlour; 
close  upon  them  followed  Mrs,  Bubband  Mrs.  Clover. 
Set  upon  her  feet,  Polly  seemed  for  a  moment  about 
to  rush  to  the  window,  a  second  thought  led  her  to 
the  mirror  over  the  mantelpiece,  where,  fiercely  eye- 
ing the  reflected  group  behind  her,  she  made  shift  to 
smooth  her  hair  and  arrange  her  dress.  Gammon 
had  sunk  upon  a  chair  and  was  mopping  his  forehead. 
He  had  suffered  far  more  than  Polly  in  the  en- 
counter, and  looked  indeed  with  wild  hair,  scratched 
face,  burst  collar,  loose  necktie,  a  startling  object. 

'*  Now  then !  "  the  girl  moved  towards  him,  fists 
clenched  as  if  to  renew  hostilities.  "  What  d'you 
mean  by  this?  Just  you  tell  me  what  you  mean 
by  it." 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  get  breath,  my  dear — I  meant 
to  bring  you  down — to  speak  to  your  aunt — and  I've 
done  it — see?" 

"  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Mr.  Gammon,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Clover  severely.  *'  I  never  thought  you  would 
go  so  far  as  this." 

"Ashamed  of  him,  are  you?"  shrieked  the  girl, 
turning  furiously  upon  her  relative.  "  Be  ashamed 
of  yourself !  What  do  you  call  yourself,  eh  ?  A  re- 
spectable woman  ?  And  you  look  on  while  your  own 
niece  is  treated  in  this  way  !  Why,  a  costermonger's 
wife  wouldn't  disgrace  herself  so — no  wonder  your 
'usband  run  away  from  you  !  " 


96  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Oh,  this  low,  vulgar,  horrid  girl  !  "  cried  her  aunt, 
in  a  revulsion  of  feeling.  "  How  she  can  be  any  rela- 
tive of  mine,  I'm  sure  /don't  know." 

"  Ugh  !  you  nasty,  ungrateful  young  woman  you  !  " 
chimed  in  Mrs.  Bubb.  "  To  speak  to  your  kind  aunt 
like  that — as  has  been  taking  your  part  when  I'm 
sure  I  wouldn't  'a'  done  !  I'd  like  to  see  you  put  on 
bread  and  water  till  you  owned  up  whether  you've 
told  lies  or  not." 

Mrs.  Clover  was  moved  to  the  point  of  shedding 
tears,  though  her  handkerchief  soon  stopped  the 
flow. 

"  Polly,"  she  said,  raising  her  voice  above  the 
hubbub,  "  you've  treated  me  that  bad  there's  no 
words  for  it.  But  I  can't  believe  you'll  let  me  go 
away  like  this,  without  knowing  whether  you've 
really  seen  Mr.  Clover  or  not.     Just  tell  me,  do." 

"  Oh,  it's  just  tell  you,  is  it  ?  After  you've  had  me 
knocked  about,  and  insulted  by  a  dirty  rough  like 
that  Gammon — " 

"  You've  heard  me  say  I  never  thought  he  meant 
to  behave  so.  I  wouldn't  have  had  it  for  any- 
thing." 

Whilst  Mrs.  Clover  was  speaking.  Gammon  beck- 
oned to  the  landlady,  and  together  they  retreated 
from  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  them.  On 
the  stairs  stood  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cheeseman,  eager  for 
the  latest  news  of  the  fray ;  at  their  invitation  Mrs. 
Bubb  and  the  hero  of  the  evening  stepped  up,  and 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Mrs.  Clover  was  left  alone 


THE    STORMING   OF   THE    FORT  97 

with  her  niece.  Then  the  landlady's  attention  was 
called  by  a  voice  from  below. 

"  I  must  be  going,  Mrs.  Bubb,  I'll  say  good-night." 

Quickly  Mrs.  Bubb  descended  ;  she  saw  at  a  glance 
that  Polly's  wrath  had  in  no  degree  diminished,  and 
that  Mrs.  Clover  was  no  whit  easier  in  mind ;  but 
both  had  become  silent.  Merely  saying  that  she 
would  see  her  hostess  again  before  long,  the  lady  of 
the  china  shop  took  a  hurried  leave  and  quitted  the 
house. 

She  had  walked  but  a  few  yards,  when  Mr.  Gam- 
mon's voice  sounded  at  her  shoulder. 

"  I'll  see  you  part  of  the  way  home,"  he  said 
genially. 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Gammon,"  was 
Mrs.  Clover's  reply,  "  but  I  can  find  my  own  way." 

"  You'll  let  me  see  you  into  a  'bus,  at  all  events." 

"Please  don't  trouble — I'd  much  rather  you 
didn't." 

*'  Why  ?  "  asked  Gammon  bluntly. 

"  Because  I  had.     I'll  say  good-night." 

She  stood  still,  looking  him  in  the  face  with  cold 
displeasure ;  only  for  a  moment  though,  as  her  eyes 
could  not  bear  the  honest  look  in  his. 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  Gammon,  with  affected 
carelessness.  "  Just  as  you  like.  I  won't  force  my 
company  on  any  one." 

Mrs.  Clover  made  the  movement  which  in  women 
of  her  breeding  signifies  a  formal  bow — hopelessly 
awkward,  rigid  and  self-conscious — and  walked 
7 


98  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

rapidly  away.     The   man,  not  a  little    crestfallen, 
swung  round  on  his  heel. 

"  What's  wrong  now  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  It 
can't  be  about  Minnie,  for  she  was  all  right  till  after 
supper.  And  why  it  should  make  her  angry  be- 
cause I  lugged  that  cat,  Polly,  down-stairs  is  more 
than  I  can  understand.     Well  I  sha'n't  die  of  it." 

On  re-entering  the  house,  he  found  all  quiet. 
Polly  had  returned  to  her  chamber.  Mrs.  Bubbwas 
in  the  Cheesemans'  room.  He  went  down  into  the 
kitchen  where  the  gas  was  burning,  and  sat  till  the 
landlady  came  down. 

"  I  don't  see  as  you  did  much  good,"  was  Mrs. 
Bubb's  first  remark,  in  the  tone  which  signifies  re- 
action after  excitement.  "  It  weren't  worth  break- 
ing a  door  in,  it  seems  to  me." 

Gammon  hung  his  head. 

"Didn't  Polly  tell  her  anything?" 

"  She  stuck  out  she  knew  where  the  'usband  was, 
and  that's  all." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Polly  said  so  as  she  went  up-stairs — and  'oped 
her  awnt  'ud  sleep  well  on  it." 

"H'm!  I  suppose  that's  why  I  couldn't  get  a 
word  out  of  Mrs.  Clover. — Have  the  door  mended, 
Mrs.  Bubb,  and  charge  me  with  it.  Got  anything 
to  drink  handy  ?  " 

"  That  I  'aven't,  Mr.  Gammon — except  water." 

Gammon  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Why  it's  only  just  half-past  eleven.     Hanged  if 


THE   STORMING   OF   THE    FORT  99 

I  didn't   think  it  was  past  midnight !     I  must  go 
round  and  get  a  drop  of  something." 

When  he  came  back  from  quenching  his  thirst 
the  house  was  in  darkness.  He  strode  the  familiar 
ascent  and  by  Polly's  door  (barricaded  inside  with 
the  chest  of  drawers)  hummed  a  mirthful  strain. 
As  he  jumped  into  bed,  the  events  of  the  evening 
all  at  once  struck  him  in  such  a  comical  light  that 
he  uttered  a  great  guffaw  ;  and  for  the  next  ten 
minutes  he  lay  under  the  bed-clothes  shaking  with 
laughter. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  NOSE  OF  THE  TREFOYLES 

At  noon  next  day  a  cab  drove  up  to  Mrs.  Bubb's 
house ;  from  it  alighted  Miss  Sparkes,  who,  with 
the  help  of  the  cabman,  brought  down-stairs  a  tin 
box,  a  wooden  box,  two  band-boxes,  and  three  news- 
paper bundles.  With  no  one  did  she  exchange 
a  word  of  farewell :  the  Cheesemans  were  out,  the 
landlady  and  Moggie  kept  below  stairs.  So  Polly 
turned  her  back  upon  Kennington  Road,  and  shook 
the  dust  thereof  from  her  feet  for  ever. 

Willingly  she  had  accepted  a  proposal  that  she 
should  share  the  room  of  her  friend  Miss  Waghorn, 
who  was  to  be  married  in  a  month's  time  (to  Mr. 
Nibby)  and  did  not  mind  a  little  inconvenience. 
The  room  was  on  the  third  floor  of  a  house  at  the 
north  end  of  Shaftesbury  Avenue ;  it  measured 
twelve  feet  by  fourteen  ;  when  Polly's  bandboxes 
had  been  thrust  under  the  bed,  and  her  larger  lug- 
gage built  up  in  a  corner,  there  was  nice  standing 
room  both  for  her  and  Miss  Waghorn.  The  house 
contained  ten  rooms  in  all,  and  its  population  (in- 
cluding seven  children)  amounted  to  twenty-three. 

I  GO 


THE    NOSE    OF   THE   TREFOYLES  lOI 

In  this  warm  weather  the  atmosphere  within  doors 
might  occasionally  be  a  trifle  close,  but  Shaftesbury 
Avenue  is  a  fine  broad  street,  and  has  great  advan- 
tages of  situation. 

To  Mr.  Gammon's  casual  inquiry,  Mrs.  Bubb  re- 
plied that  she  neither  knew  nor  cared  whither  Polly 
had  betaken  herself.  Himself  having  no  great  curi- 
osity in  the  matter,  and  being  much  absorbed  in 
his  endeavour  to  obtain  an  engagement  with  the 
house  of  Quodling,  he  let  Polly  slip  from  his  mind 
for  a  few  days.  Until  one  morning  came  a  letter 
from  her.  Positively  and  to  his  vast  surprise  a 
letter  addressed  to  him  by  Miss  Sparkes,  with  her 
abode  fully  indicated  in  the  usual  place.  True,  the 
style  of  the  epistle  was  informal. 

"You  took  advantage  of  me,"  it  began,  "because 
there  wasn't  a  man  in  the  house  to  take  my  part, 
as  I  don't  call  that  grinning  monkey  of  a  Cheeseman 
a  man  at  all.  If  you  like  to  call  where  I  am  now,  I 
shall  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  you  to 
somebody  that  will  give  you  the  good  hiding  you 
deserve  for  being  a  coward  and  a  brute, — Miss 
Sparkes." 

Gammon  laughed  over  this  for  half  an  hour.  He 
showed  it  to  Mrs.  Bubb,  who  was  again  on  the  old 
terms  with  him,  and  Mrs.  Bubb  wanted  to  exhibit 
it  to  Mrs.  Cheeseman. 

"  No,  don't  do  that,"  he  interposed,  gently, 
"  We'll  keep  it  between  ourselves." 

"Why?" 


102  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  The  girl  can't  help  herself, 
she  was  born  that  way,  you  know." 

"  I  only  hope  she  won't  pay  some  rough  to  follow 
you  at  night  and  bash  you,"  said  Mrs.  Bubb  warn- 
ingly. 

"  I  don't  think  that. — No,  no  ;  Polly's  bark  is 
worse  than  her  bite,  any  day." 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  about  ten  o'clock,  he 
chanced  to  be  in  Oxford  Street,  and  as  he  turned 
southward,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  so  far 
act  upon  Polly's  invitation  as  to  walk  down  the 
Avenue,  and  glance  at  the  house  where  she  lived. 
He  did  so,  and  it  surprised  him  to  see  that  she  had 
taken  up  her  abode  in  so  mean-looking  a  place.  He 
was  not  aware,  of  course,  that  Miss  Waghorn  found 
the  quarters  good  enough  for  her  own  more  impos- 
ing charms  and  not  less  brilliant  wardrobe.  Walk- 
ing on,  at  Cambridge  Circus  he  came  face  to  face 
with  Miss  Sparkes  herself,  accompanied  by  Miss 
Waghorn.  To  his  hat  salute  and  amiable  smile, 
Polly  replied  with  a  fierce  averting  of  the  look. 
Her  friend  nodded  cheerfully,  and  they  passed. 
Two  minutes  after,  he  found  Miss  Waghorn  beside 
him. 

"Hallo!     Left  Polly?" 

"  I  want  you  to  come  back  with  me,  Mr.  Gam- 
mon," replied  the  maiden  archly.  "  I  'ear  you've 
offended  Miss  Sparkes,  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  I'm 
sure,  and  I  don't  ask  to  be  told,  'cause  it's  none  of 


THE    NOSE   OF   THE   TREFOYLES  I03 

my  business  ;  but  I  want  to  make  you  friends  again, 
and  I'm  sure  you'll  apologise  to  her." 

"  Eh  ?  Apologise  ?  Why,  of  course  I  will.  Only 
too  delighted." 

"That's  nice  of  you.  I  always  said  you  was  a 
nice  man — ask  Polly  if  I  didn't." 

"  The  same  to  you,  my  dear,  and  many  of  'em! 
Come  along." 

As  if  wholly  unaware  of  what  was  happening, 
Polly  had  proceeded  homewards  ;  not  so  fast,  how- 
ever, but  that  the  others  overtook  her  with  ease 
before  she  reached  the  house. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Sparkes?"  began  her 
enemy,  not  without  diffidence  as  she  turned  upon 
him.  "  I'm  surprised  to  hear  from  Miss  Waghorn 
that  something  I've  said  or  done  has  riled  you — if  I 
may  use  the  expression.  I  couldn't  have  meant  it, 
I'm  sure,  I  'umbly  beg  pardon." 

Strange  to  say,  by  this  imperfect  expression  of 
regret  Miss  Sparkes  allowed  herself  to  be  mollified. 
Presenting  a  three-quarter  countenance,  with  a  for- 
bearing smile,  she  answered  in  the  formula  of  her 
class  : 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  it's  granted." 

"  There,  now  we're  all  friends  again,"  said  Carrie 
Waghorn.  "  Miss  Sparkes  is  living  with  me  for  the 
present,  Mr.  Gammon.  There'll  be  changes  before 
long" — and  she  looked  about  her  with  prudish  em- 
barassment — "  but  of  course  we  shall  be  seeing  you 
again.     Do  you  know  the  address,  Mr.  Gammon  ?  " 


104  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

She  mentioned  the  number  of  the  house,  and 
carefully  repeated  it ;  whilst  Polly  turned  away  as 
if  the  conversation  did  not  interest  her.  Thereupon, 
Mr.  Gammon  bade  them  good-night  and  went  his 
way,  marvelling  that  Polly  Sparkes  had  all  at  once 
become  so  placable.  Was  it  a  stratagem  to  throw 
him  ofT  his  guard,  and  bring  him  into  the  clutches 
of  some  avenger,  one  of  these  nights  ?  One  never 
knew  what  went  on  in  the  minds  of  such  young 
women  as  Polly. 

Next  morning  he  had  another  surprise  ;  a  letter 
from  his  friend  Greenacre,  inviting  him,  with  many 
phrases  of  studious  politeness,  to  dine  that  day  at  a 
great  hotel,  the  hour  eight  o'clock,  and  begging  him 
to  reply  by  telegram  addressed  to  the  same  hotel. 
This  puzzled  Gammon,  yet  less  than  it  could  have 
done  at  an  earlier  stage  of  their  acquaintance.  He 
had  abandoned  the  hope  of  explaining  Greenacre's 
mysterious  circumstances,  and  the  attempt  to  decide 
whether  his  stories  were  worthy  of  belief  or  not. 
Half  suspecting  that  he  might  be  the  victim  of  a 
hoax,  he  telegraphed  an  acceptance,  and  thought 
no  more  of  the  matter  until  evening  approached. 
Part  of  his  day  was  spent  in  helping  a  distracted 
shopkeeper,  on  the  verge  of  failure,  to  obtain  indul- 
gence from  certain  of  his  creditors,  he  also  secured 
a  place  as  errand-boy  for  the  son  of  a  poor  woman 
with  whom  he  had  lodged  until  her  house  was  burnt 
down  one  Bank  holiday ;  and  he  made  a  trip  to 
Hammersmith,  to  give  evidence  at  the  police  court 


THE    NOSE    OF   THE   TREFOYLES  Io5 

for  a  friend  charged  with  assaulting  a  policeman. 
Just  before  eight  o'clock,  after  a  hasty  wash  and 
brush-up  at  a  public  lavatory,  he  presented  himself 
at  the  great  hotel,  where,  from  a  lounge  in  the 
smoking-room,  Greenacre  rose  to  welcome  him. 
Greenacre,  indubitably,  but  much  better  dressed 
than  Gammon  had  ever  seen  him,  and  with  an  air 
of  lively  graciousness  which  was  very  impressive. 
The  strange  fellow  offered  not  a  word  of  explana- 
tion, but  chatted  as  though  their  meeting  in  such 
places  as  this  were  an  everyday  occurrence. 

"  I  have  something  interesting  to  tell  you,"  he 
observed,  when  they  were  seated  in  the  brilliant 
dining-room,  with  olives,  sardines,  and  the  like  to 
toy  with  before  the  serious  commencement  of  their 
meal.  "  You  remember — when  was  it  ? — not  long 
ago  asking  me  about  a  family  named  Quodling  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  It  was  only  the  other  day 
at — 

*'  Ah — just  so — yes,"  interposed  Greenacre,  suave- 
ly ignoring  the  locality.  "  You  know  my  weak- 
ness for  looking  up  family  histories.  I  happened  to 
be  talking  with  my  friend  Beeching  yesterday — 
Aladham  Beeching,  you  know,  the  Q.  C. — and 
Quodling  came  into  my  head ;  I  mentioned  the  name. 
It  was  as  I  thought.  I  had,  you  know,  a  vague  rec- 
ollection of  Quodling  as  connected  with  a  lawsuit 
when  I  was  a  boy.  Beeching  could  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"  Well,  what  was  it  ?  " 


I06  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

*'  Queer  story.  A  Mrs.  Quodling,  a  widow,  or 
believed  to  be  a  widow,  came  in  for  a  large  sum  of 
money  under  the  will  of  Lord  Polperro — the  second 
baron,  uncle,  I  am  told  of  his  present  lordship. 
This  will  was  contested  by  the  family  ;  a  very  com- 
plicated affair,  Beeching  tells  me.  Mrs.  Quodling, 
whose  character  was  attacked,  declared  that  she 
knew  Lord  Polperro  in  an  honourable  way,  and  that 
he  had  taken  a  great  interest  in  her  children,  two 
young  boys.  Now  these  boys  were  produced  in 
court,  then  it  was  seen — excellent  soup  this — that 
they  bore  little  if  any  resemblance  to  each  other  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  it  was  made  evident,  by  exhi- 
bition of  a  portrait,  that  the  younger  boy  had  a  face 
with  a  strong  likeness  to  the  testator ;  and  many 
witnesses  declared  the  same.  Interesting,  isn't 
it?" 

"  For  the  widow,"  remarked  Gammon. 

"  Uncommonly  awkward — though  she  gained  her 
case,  for  all  that.  Polperro  it  seems  had  a  shady 
reputation  ;  heavy  drinker,  and  so  on.  There  were 
strong  characteristics  ;  some  peculiarity  of  the  nose. 
The  old  chap  used  to  say  that  there  was  the  nose 
of  the  Bourbons  and  the  nose  of  the  Trefoyles — his 
family  name." 

"What  name?" 

"  Trefoyle.  Cornish,  you  know.  Rum  lot,  they 
always  seem  to  have  been.  Barony  created  by 
George  III,  for  some  personal  service;  the  first 
Polperro  is  said  to  have  lived  for  a  year  or  two  as 


THE    NOSE   OF   THE   TREFOYLES  I07 

a  gypsy,  and  at  another  time  as  a  highwayman. 
There's  a  portrait  of  him,  Beeching  tells  me,  in 
somebody's  history  of  Cornwall ;  showing  to  per- 
fection the  Trefoyle  nose." 

"  Same  as  Quodling's,  then,"  exclaimed  Gammon. 
"  Quodling  the  broker  ?  " 

"  Precisely — I  would  suggest,  my  dear  fellow,  that 
you  don't  speak  quite  so  loud — Francis  Quodling 
was  the  boy  who  so  strongly  resembled  the  Lord 
Polperro  of  the  lawsuit.  Nose  with  high  arch  and 
som.ething  queer  about  the  nostril." 

"Yes!  and  hanged  if  it  isn't  just  the  same  as — " 

A  deprecatory  gesture  from  his  friend  stopped 
Gammon  on  the  point  of  uttering  the  name 
**  Clover."  Again  he  had  sinned  against  the  pro- 
prieties by  unduly  raising  his  voice,  and  he  sub- 
sided in  confusion. 

"You  were  going  to  say?"  murmured  the  host 
politely. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  there's  a  man  I  know  has  just  the 
same  nose,  that's  all." 

"  That's  very  interesting.  And  considering  the 
Polperro  reputation,  it  wouldn't  surprise  me  to  come 
across  a  good  many  such  noses.  You  remember  my 
favourite  speculation.  It  comes  in  very  well  here, 
doesn't  it — Is  all  this  information  of  any  service  to 
you?" 

"  Much  obliged  to  you  for  your  trouble.  I 
don't  know  that  I  can  make  any  use  of  it — but  yes, 
it  does  give  a  sort  of  hint." 


Io8  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

On  reflection,  Gammon  decided  to  keep  the  mat- 
ter to  himself.  He  had  set  his  mind  on  discovering 
Mrs.  Clover's  husband,  and  was  all  the  more  deter- 
mined to  perform  this  feat  since  the  recent  events 
in  Kennington  Road.  Mrs.  Clover  had  treated  him 
unkindly ;  he  would  prove  to  her  that  this  had  no 
effect  upon  his  zeal  in  her  service.  Polly  Sparkes 
was  making  fun  of  him,  and  the  laugh  should  yet  be 
on  his  side.  Greenacre,  with  his  mysterious  con- 
nections, might  be  of  use,  but  must  not  be  allowed 
to  run  away  with  the  credit  of  the  discovery.  As 
for  these  stories  about  Lord  Polperro,  it  might  turn 
out  that  Clover  was  illegitimately  related  to  the 
noble  family — no  subject  for  boasting,  though  pos- 
sibly an  explanation  of  his  strange  life.  If  Polly 
were  really  in  communication  with  him — Ho,  ho, 
Very  good  !     Ha,  ha  ! 

"  What  now  ?  "  asked  Greenacre. 

"Nothing!     Queer  fancy  I  had." 

After  dinner,  they  smoked  together  for  an  hour, 
the  host  talking  incessantly,  and  for  the  most  part 
in  a  vein  of  reminiscence.  To  hear  him,  one  would 
have  supposed  that  he  had  always  lived  in  the 
society  of  distinguished  people,  never  a  word  refer- 
ring to  the  poverty  or  mean  employment,  fell  from 
his  lips. 

"  Poor  Bolsover  !  "  he  remarked.  "  Did  I  tell  you 
that  I  had  a  very  kind  letter  from  his  widow  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  since — " 

"  Ah,  no,  to  be  sure.     I  wrote,  or  rather,  I  left  a 


THE   NOSE   OF   THE   TREFOYLES  lOQ 

card  at  the  town  house.  Charming  letter  in  reply. 
The  poor  lady  is  still  quite  young.  She  was  a 
Thompson  of  Derbyshire.  I  never  knew  the  family 
at  all  well." 

Gammon  mused,  and  it  occurred  to  him,  in  his 
knowledge  of  the  world,  that  Greenacre's  connection 
with  the  house  of  Bolsover  might  be  that  of  a  beg- 
ging-letter writer.  There  might  have  been  some 
slight  acquaintance,  in  years  gone  by,  between  this 
strange  fellow  and  young  Lord  Bolsover,  subse- 
quently made  a  source  of  profit.  Perchance  Green- 
acre's  prosperity  at  this  moment  resulted  from  a 
skilful  appeal  to  the  widowed  lady. 

Inclined  to  facetiousness  by  a  blend  of  choice 
beverages,  Gammon  could  not  resist  a  joke  at  the 
moment  when  he  took  leave. 

"Been  out  with  the  Saponaria  van  to-day?"  he 
inquired,  innocently. 

Greenacre  looked  steadily  at  him,  with  eyes  of 
gentle  reproach. 

**  I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand  that  allusion,"  he 
replied,  gravely.  "  Is  it  a  current  jest  ?  I  am  not 
much  in  the  way  of  hearing  that  kind  of  thing.  By 
the  by,  let  me  know  if  I  can  help  you  in  any  more 
genealogies." 

"  I  will.     So  long,  old  man  ! " 

And  with  a  wink — an  undeniable  wink,  an  auda- 
cious wink — Mr.  Gammon  sallied  from  the  hotel. 

Before  going  to  bed,  he  wrote  a  letter ;  a  letter 
to  Miss  Sparkes.     Would  she  see  him  the  day  after 


no  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

to-morrow,  Sunday,  if  he  strolled  along  Shaftesbury 
Avenue  at  lo  A.M.  ?  It  would  greatly  delight  him, 
and  perhaps  she  might  be  persuaded  to  take  a  little 
jaunt  to  Dulwich  and  look  at  his  bow-wows. 


CHAPTER  XII 

POLLY   CONDESCENDS 

There  was  time  enough  for  Polly  to  reply  to  this 
invitation,  but  reply  she  did  not.  None  the  less, 
Gammon  was  walking  about  near  her  lodgings  at 
ten  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  once  or  twice  perceived  a  face  at  an  upper 
window,  but  at  a  quarter-past  the  hour  Miss  Sparkes 
had  not  come  forth.  He  was  on  the  point  of  going 
boldly  to  the  door,  when  a  recognisable  figure  ap- 
proached, that  of  Mr.  Nibby.  The  men  hailed  each 
other. 

"  Waiting  for  somebody  ? "  inquired  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  Gillingwater  burner,  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye. 

To  obviate  the  risk  of  complications.  Gammon 
avowed  that  he  was  looking  out  for  Miss  Sparkes, 
with  whom  he  wanted  a  word  on  private  busi- 
ness. 

"  First-rate  !  "    exclaimed    Mr.    Nibby.      "  She's 

coming  along  with  Miss  Waghorn  and  me  to  my 

brother's  at  'Endon — the  Blue  Anchor,  do  you  know 

it?     Nice  little  property.     You'll  have  to  join  us  ; 

III 


112  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

first-rate.     I'm  only  afraid  it  may  rine.     Do  you 
think  it  will  rine  ?  " 

"  May  or  may  not,"  replied  Gammon,  staring  at 
the  clouds  and  thinking  over  the  situation  as  it  con- 
cerned himself.  "  If  it's  going  to  rine,  it  will,  you 
you  know." 

"  That's  true.     I'll  just  let  'em  know  I'm  here." 

But  at  this  moment  the  two  young  ladies  came 
forth,  blushing  and  resplendent.  Hats  were  doffed, 
and  hands  were  shaken, 

"  Why,  is  that  you,  Mr.  Gammon?"  cried  Carrie 
Waghorn,  when  the  ceremony  was  over,  as  if  only 
just  aware  of  his  presence.  "  Well,  this  is  a  surprise 
—isn't  it,  Polly  !  " 

Miss  Sparkes  seemed  barely  to  recognise  Mr. 
Gammon,  but  of  necessity  she  took  a  place  by  his 
side  and  walked  on  with  a  rhythmic  tossing  of  the 
head — which  had  a  new  adornment,  a  cluster  of 
great  blue  flowers,  unknown  to  the  botanist,  in  the 
place  of  her  everyday  poppies. 

"If  you  don't  want  me,"  remarked  Gammon, 
glancing  at  her,  "you've  only  to  say  so,  and  I'm 
off!" 

Polly  looked  up  at  the  sky,  and  answered  with  a 
question. 

"  Do  you  think  it's  going  to  rine  ?  " 

"  Shouldn't  wonder." 

"  Well,  you  are  polite." 

"  What's  the  rine  got  to  do  with  politeness?  I 
say  ;  why  didn't  you  answer  my  letter  ?  " 


POLLY   CONDESCENDS.  II3 

"  I  pay  no  attention  to  impertinence,"  replied  Miss 
Sparkes  haughtily. 

"  Oh,  that's  it  ?  Never  mind  ;  we  shall  get  on 
better  presently.  I  say,  Polly,  do  you  see  you've 
left  marks  on  my  face  ?  " 

Polly  set  her  lips,  and  kept  a  severe  silence. 

"  I  don't  mind  'em,"  Gammon  continued.  "  Ra- 
ther proud  of  'em.  If  anybody  asks  me  how  I  got 
the  scratches — " 

The  girl  looked  sharply  at  him. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you'd  tell  ?  Well,  if  you 
call  that  gentlemanly — !  " 

"  Wouldn't  tell  the  truth,  Polly,  not  for  as  many 
kisses  as  there  are  scratches,  my  dear." 

Polly  bridled — young  women  of  her  class  still 
bridle — but  looked  rather  pleased.  And  Gammon 
chuckled  to  himself,  thinking  that  all  went  well. 

The  rain  came,  but  for  all  that  they  had  a  day  of 
enjoyment,  spent  chiefly  in  an  arbour,  not  quite  rain 
proof,  on  the  skittle  ground  behind  the  Blue  Anchor 
at  Hendon.  Continuous  was  the  popping  of  corks, 
frequent  were  the  outbursts  of  hilarity.  Polly  did 
not  abandon  her  reserve  with  Mr.  Gammon,  now 
and  then  she  condescended  to  smile  at  his  sallies  of 
wit,  whereas  she  screamed  at  a  joke  from  others. 
The  landlord  of  the  Blue  Anchor  was  a  widower  of 
about  thirty,  and  had  some  claims  to  be  considered 
a  lady's  man  ;  to  him  Polly  directed  her  friendly 
looks  and  remarks,  with  a  freedom  which  could  not 
but  excite  attention. 
8 


114  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Is  that  the  fellow  that's  going  to  give  me  a 
thrashing?"  Gammon  asked  of  her,  at  length  in 
an  aside. 

"  Don't  be  a  silly !  "  she  answered,  turning  her 
back. 

"  Because,  if  so,  I'd  better  get  the  start  of  him. 
There's  a  convenient  bit  of  ground  here." 

He  spoke  with  such  seeming  seriousness  that 
Polly  showed  alarm. 

*'  Don't  be  a  silly,  Mr.  Gammon.  If  you  misbe- 
have yourself,  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again." 

"  Well,  what  I  want  to  know  is,  am  I  to  be  on 
guard  ?  Am  I  to  mind  my  eye,  whenever  I'm  near 
you?" 

He  spoke  as  if  with  a  real  desire  to  be  relieved 
from  apprehension.  At  this  moment,  their  com- 
panions had  drawn  apart,  and  they  could  converse 
unheard. 

"  You  know  very  well  what  you  deserve,"  replied 
Polly,  looking  askance  at  him.  "  And  if  such  a 
thing  ever  was  to  happen  again — well,  you'd  see, 
that's  all." 

Therewith  the  peace,  or  at  all  events  the  truce 
was  concluded,  and  Miss  Sparkes  allowed  herself  to 
meet  Mr.  Gammon's  advances  with  frankness  and 
appreciation.  The  fact  that  he  did  unmistakably 
make  advances  secretly  surprised  her  ;  but  not  more 
than  Gammon  was  surprised  to  find  himself  coming 
into  favour. 

A  few  days  later,  the  opportunity  for  which  he 


POLLY   CONDESCENDS  Il5 

waited  came  to  pass,  and  he  was  invited  to  an  inter- 
view with  Quodling  and  Son ;  that  is  to  say,  with  a 
person  who  was  neither  Quodling  nor  Quodling's 
Son,  but  held  a  position  of  authority  at  their  place 
of  business  in  Norton  Folgate.  Whenever  the 
chance  was  given  him  of  applying  personally  for 
any  post  that  he  desired,  Mr.  Gammon  felt  a  reason- 
able assurance  of  success.  Honesty  was  written 
broadly  upon  his  visage;  capability  declared  itself 
in  his  speech ;  he  could  win  the  liking  and  confi- 
dence of  any  ordinary  man  of  business  in  ten  min- 
utes. It  happened,  fortunately,  that  the  firm  of 
Quodling  needed  just  such  a  representative.  As 
Gammon  knew,  they  had  been  unlucky  in  their 
town  traveller  of  late,  and  they  looked  just  now 
more  to  the  "address,"  the  personal  qualities,  of  an 
applicant  for  the  position,  than  to  his  actual  acquaint- 
ance with  their  business,  which  was  greatly  a  mat- 
ter of  routine.  Mr.  Gammon  was  accepted  on 
trial,  and  in  a  day  or  two  began  his  urban  travels. 

Particular  about  the  horses  he  drove.  Gammon 
saw  with  pleasure  the  young  dark-bay  cob,  stylishly 
harnessed,  which  pawed  delicately  as  he  mounted 
the  neat  little  trap  put  at  his  disposal.  It  is  the 
blessedness  of  a  mind  and  temper  such  as  his  that 
the  things  which  charm  at  the  beginning  of  life  con- 
tinue to  give  pleasure,  scarce  abated,  as  long  as  the 
natural  force  remains.  At  forty  years  of  age.  Gam- 
mon set  off  about  his  business  with  all  the  zest  of  a 
healthy  boy.     The   knowledge  he  had  gained,  all 


Il6  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

practical,  and,  so  to  speak,  for  external  application, 
could  never  become  the  burden  of  the  philosopher ; 
if  he  had  any  wisdom  at  all  it  consisted  in  the  lack 
of  self-consciousness,  the  animal  acceptance  of 
whatever  good  the  hour  might  bring.  He  and  his 
bay  cob  were  very  much  on  the  same  footing; 
granted  but  a  method  of  communication  and  they 
would  have  understood  each  other.  Even  so  with 
his  bow-wows,  as  he  called  them.  He  rose  superior 
to  horse  and  dog  mainly  in  that  one  matter  of  de- 
sire for  a  certain  kind  of  female  companionship ; 
and  this  strain  of  idealism,  naturally  enough,  was 
the  cause  of  almost  the  only  discontent  he  ever 
knew. 

Joyously  he  rattled  about  the  highways  and  by- 
ways of  greater  London.  The  position  he  had 
now  obtained  was  to  become  a  "  permanency  "  ;  to 
Quodling  and  Son  he  could  attach  himself,  making 
his  services  indispensable.  One  of  these  days — not 
just  yet — he  would  look  in  at  Mrs.  Clover's  and  see 
whether  she  still  kept  in  the  same  resentful  mind 
towards  him.  It  was  an  odd  thing  that  nowadays 
he  gave  more  thought  to  Mrs.  Clover  than  to 
Minnie.  The  young  girl  glimmered  very  far  away, 
at  a  height  above  him  ;  he  had  made  a  mistake  and 
frankly  recognised  it.  But  Mrs.  Clover,  his  excel- 
lent friend  of  many  years,  shone  with  no  such  supe- 
riority, and  was  not  above  rebuke  for  any  injustice 
she  might  do  him.  Probably  by  this  time  she  had 
forgotten   her  fretfulness,   a   result    of   overstrung" 


POLLY   CONDESCENDS  II7 

nerves.  She  would  ask  his  pardon — and  ought  to 
do  so. 

He  thought  of  Polly  Sparkes,  but  always  with  a 
peculiar  smile,  inclining  to  a  grimace.  Polly  had 
"  come  round  "  in  the  most  astonishing  way.  But 
she  would  come  round  yet  more,  before  he  had 
done  with  her.  His  idea  was  to  take  Polly  to  Dul- 
wich,  and  show  her  the  bow-wows  ;  he  saw  possi- 
bilities of  a  quiet  meal  together  at  the  inn.  The 
difificulty  was  to  reassure  her  natural  tremors,  with- 
out losing  the  ground  he  had  gained  by  judicious 
approaches. 

About  the  middle  of  July  he  prevailed  upon  her 
to  accept  his  invitation,  and  to  come  alone  ;  though 
Polly  continued  to  declare  that  she  hated  dogs,  and 
that  she  had  never  in  her  life  gone  to  so  remote 
and  rural  a  spot  as  Dulwich  without  a  "  lady  friend  " 
to  keep  her  in  countenance. 

"  Everything  must  have  a  beginning,"  said  Gam- 
mon merrily. 

"  If  you  let  those  people  know,  I'll  never  speak  to 
you  again." 

She  referred  to  Mrs.  Bubb  and  her  household, 
of  whom  she  had  never  ceased  to  speak  with 
animus. 

"  Honour  bright,  they  shan't  hear  a  whisper  of 
it." 

So  on  a  Sunday  morning  they  made  the  journey 
by  omnibus,  for  the  sake  of  the  fresh  air ;  Polly  re- 
marking again  and  again  on  her  great  condescension, 


Il8  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

reaffirming  her  dislike  of  dogs,  and  declaring  that  if 
a  drop  of  rain  fell  she  would  turn  about  homeward 
forthwith.  None  the  less  did  she  appear  to  find 
pleasure  in  Mr.  Gammon's  society.  If  his  gossip 
included  a  casual  mention  of  some  young  lady,  a 
friend  of  his,  she  pressed  for  information  concerning 
that  person,  and  never  seemed  quite  satisfied  with 
what  she  was  told  about  her.  Slyly  observant  of 
this,  her  companion  multiplied  his  sportive  allusions, 
and  was  amused  to  find  Polly  grow  waspish.  Then 
again  he  soothed  her  with  solid  flattery  ;  nothing  of 
the  kind  too  gross  for  Polly's  appetite.  And  so 
conversing  they  shortened  the  journey  to  remote 
Dulwich. 

With  gathered  skirts  and  a  fear  partly  real  but 
more  affected.  Miss  Sparkes  entered  the  yard  where 
Gammon's  dogs  were  kept.  (As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
shared  in  their  ownership  with  the  landlord  of  the 
public  house,  a  skilful  breeder.)  When  puppies  gam- 
bolled about  her,  she  woke  the  echoes  with  a  scream. 
From  a  fine  terrier,  a  '*  game  "  dog  whose  latest  ex- 
ploit was  the  killing  of  a  hundred  rats  in  six  minutes, 
she  backed  trembling,  and  even  put  out  a  hand  to 
Gammon  as  if  for  protection.  Polly's  behaviour, 
indeed,  was  such  as  would  have  been  proper  in  a  fine 
lady  forty  years  ago  ;  the  fashion  having  descended 
to  her  class,  just  as  fashions  in  costume  are  wont  to 
do  at  a  shorter  interval.  When- Gammon  begged 
her  to  feel  the  "  feather  "  of  a  beautiful  collie,  she 
at  length  did  so  with  great  timidity  ;  and  a  moment 


POLLY   CONDESCENDS  IIQ 

after,  to  show  how  doggy  she  was  becoming,  she 
spoke  of  the  "  feather  "  of  a  Httle  black-and-tan  ; 
whereat  Gammon  smiled  broadly.  On  the  whole 
they  much  enjoyed  themselves,  and  had  a  good 
appetite  at  dinner-time. 

The  meal  was  laid  for  them  in  a  small  private 
reom,  which  smelt  principally  of  stale  tobacco 
and  stale  chimney  soot.  The  water-bottle  on  the 
table  was  encrusted  with  a  white  enamel  advertise- 
ment of  somebody's  whisky,  and  had  another  such 
recommendation  legible  on  its  base.  The  tray  used 
by  the  girl  in  attendance  was  enamelled  with  the 
name  of  somebody's  brandy.  On  the  walls  hung 
three  brightly  coloured  calendars,  each  an  advertise- 
ment ;  one  of  sewing  machines,  one  of  an  insur- 
ance office,  one  of  a  local  grocery  trade.  The  other 
mural  adornments  were  old  coloured  pictures  of 
race-horses  and  faded  photographs  of  dogs.  A 
clock  on  the  mantelpiece  (not  going)  showed  across 
its  face  the  name  of  a  firm  that  dealt  in  aerated 
waters. 

Coarse  and  plentiful  were  the  viands,  and  Polly 
did  justice  to  them.  She  had  excellent  teeth,  a  very 
uncommon  thing  in  girls  of  her  kind  ;  but  Polly's 
parents  were  of  country  origin.  With  these  wea- 
pons she  feared  not  even  the  pastry  set  before  her  ; 
which  it  was  just  possible  to  break  with  an  ordinary 
fork. 

Towards  the  end,  Gammon  grew  silent  and  medi- 
tative.    He  kept  gazing  at  the  windows  as  if  for  aid 


120  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

in  some  calculation.  When  Polly  at  last  threw  down 
her  cheese-knife,  glowing  with  the  thought  that  she 
had  dined  well  at  somebody  else's  expense,  he 
leaned  forward  on  the  table,  looked  her  in  the  eyes, 
and  began  a  momentous  dialogue. 


,       .'  CHAPTER  XIII 

GAMMON   THE   CRAFTY 

"  What  did  you  want  to  do  such  a  silly  thing  as 
that  for?" 

Polly  stared  in  astonishment. 

"  What  d'you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why  did  you  let  out  to  Mrs.  Clover  what  you 
knew?" 

The  girl's  colour  deepened  by  a  shade  (it  was  al- 
ready rich)  and  her  eyes  grew  alarmed,  suspicious, 
watchful. 

"  I  didn't  let  out  what  I  knew,"  she  answered, 
rather  confused. 

It  was  Gammon's  turn  to  watch  keenly. 

"  Not  all ;  of  course  not,"  he  remarked  slyly. 
"  But  why  couldn't  you  keep  it  to  yourself  that 
you'd  met  him  ?  " 

Polly's  eyes  wandered.  Gammon  smiled  with 
satisfaction. 

"  I'd  have  kept  that  to  myself,"  he  said,  in  a 
friendly  way.  "  I  know  how  it  was,  of  course  ;  you 
got  riled,  and  came  out  with  it.    A  great  pity.    She 

121 


122  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

had  all  but  forgot  him;  now  she'll  never  rest  till 
she's  found  him  out.  And  you  might  have  seen  how- 
much  more  to  your  advantage  it  was  to  keep  a  thing 
like  that  quiet." 

Unwonted  mental  disturbance  was  playing  tricks 
with  Polly's  complexion.  She  evidently  feared  to 
compromise  herself,  and  at  the  same  time  desired 
to  know  all  that  was  in  her  companion's  mind. 

«'  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  "  was  the  crude 
phrase  that  at  length  fell  from  her  lips,  uttered  half- 
heartedly, between  resentment  and  jesting. 

"  Well,  there's  the  point,"  replied  Gammon,  with 
a  laugh.  "  Queer  thing,  but  it  just  happens  to  be 
particular  business  of  mine." 

Polly  stared.     He  nodded. 

"  There's  such  a  thing,  Polly,  as  going  halves  in  a 
secret.  I've  been  wondering  these  last  few  days 
whether  I  should  tell  you  or  not.  But  we're  get- 
ting on  so  well  together— eh  ?  Better  than  I  ex- 
pected, for  one.  I  shouldn't  feel  I  was  doing  right, 
Polly,  if  I  took  any  advantage  of  you." 

She  was  growing  excited.  Her  wiles  had  given 
way  before  superior  stratagem,  and  perhaps  before 
something  in  herself  that  played  traitor. 

"  You  mean  you  know  about  him  ? "  she  asked, 
almost  confidentially. 

"  Not  all  I  want  to — yet.  He's  a  sharp  customer. 
But  considerably  more  than  you  do,  Polly,  my 
dear." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  ! " 


GAMMON   THE   CRAFTY  1 23 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Suppose  you 
ask  me  a  question  or  two.  I  might  be  able  to  tell 
you  something  you  would  like  to  know." 

It  was  said  of  course  without  any  suspicion  of  the 
real  state  of  things  ;  but  Gammon  saw  at  once  that 
he  had  excited  an  eager  curiosity. 
'  "  You  know  where  he  is  then  ?  "  asked  Polly. 

"  Well — we'll  say  so." 

"  Where  ?     When  did  you  see  him  last  ?  " 

"  We're  going  too  quickly,  old  girl.  The  question 
is,  when  did  you  see  him  last." 

"  Ah  !  you'd  like  to  know,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

Gammon  burst  out  laughing,  ever  the  surest  way 
of  baffling  a  silly  woman.  Polly  grew  hot  with 
anger,  then  subsided  into  mortification.  She  knew 
the  weakness  of  her  position  and  inclined  even  more 
to  make  an  ally  of  the  man  who  had  overcome  her 
in  battle  and  carried  her  off  in  his  arms. 

"And  the  other  question  is,"  Gammon  proceeded, 
as  if  enjoying  a  huge  joke.  "When  did  you  see 
him  first  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  you  know  ? "  she  murmured  reluc- 
tantly. 

"  Let  us  suppose  I  do.  And  suppose  I  am  trying  to 
make  up  my  mind  about  the  best  way  of  dealing 
with  the  little  affair.  As  I  told  you,  I  wish  Mrs. 
Clover  didn't  know  about  it ;  but  that's  your  doing. 
Our  friend,  Mr.  C.  wouldn't  thank  you." 

"  He  knows,  then,  does  he?  "  cried  Polly. 

"  Mr.  C.  knows  a  great  many  things,  my  dear.     He 


124  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

was  not  born  yesterday.  Now  see  here,  Polly. 
We're  both  of  us  in  this,  and  we'd  better  be  straight 
with  each  other.  I  am  no  friend  of  Mr.  C,  but  I  am 
a  friend  of  yours,  and  if  you  can  help  me  to  get  a 
bit  tighter  hold  of  him. — Yes,  yes,  I'll  tell  you  pres- 
ently. The  question  is,  whether  I  can  depend  upon 
what  he  says.  Of  course  I  know  all  about  you  ;  I 
want  to  know  more  about  him.  Now  is  it  true  that 
you  saw  him  first  at  the  theatre  ?  " 

Polly  nodded,  and  Gammon  congratulated  himself 
on  his  guess. 

"  And — he  wasn't  alone  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Just  what  I  thought." 

"  He  says  he  was  alone — eh  ?  "  asked  Polly  with 
eagerness. 

"  I  guess  why.  Now  who  was  with  him,  old 
girl?" 

A  moment's  sulky  hesitation,  and  Polly  threw 
away  all  reserve. 

"  There  was  two  ladies  ;  if  they  were  ladies  ;  at  all 
events  they  was  dressed  like  it.  Oldish,  both  of  'em. 
One  was  a  foreigner  ;  I  know  that  because  I  heard  her 
speak,  and  it  wasn't  English.  The  other  one  spoke 
back  to  her  in  the  same  way,  but  I  heard  her  speak 
English  too.  And  she  was  the  one  as  sat  next  to 
him." 

"  Good,  Polly,  we're  getting  on.  And  how  did 
you  notice  him  ''  " 

"  Well,  it  was  like  this,"  she  began  to  narrate  with 


GAMMON    THE   CRAFTY  12$ 

vivacity.  "  I  offered  him  a  programme — see  ? — and 
he  gave  me  half  a  sovereign,  and  looked  up  at  me, 
as  much  as  to  say,  he'd  like  change.  And  I'd  no 
sooner  met  his  eyes  than  I  knew  him.  How  could 
I  help?  He  don't  look  to  have  changed  a  bit.  And 
I  saw  as  he  knew  me.  I  saw  it  by  a  queer  sort  of 
wink  he  give.  And  then  he  looked  at  me  frightened 
like — didn't  he  just !  Of  course  I  didn't  say  nothing, 
but  I  kept  standing  by  him  a  minute  or  two.  And 
I'd  forgot  all  about  the  change,  till  he  said  to 
me,  with  a  sort  of  look :  '  You  may  keep  that,' 
he  said,  and  I  says,  '  Thank  you,  sir,'  and  nearly 
laughed." 

"  Not  a  bad  tip,  eh,  Polly  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  had  as  good  before,"  she  replied,  with 
a  brief  return  to  the  old  manner. 

"  No  doubt  he  enjoyed  himself  that  evening.  He 
kept  spying  round  for  you,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  look  once  or  twice,  and  I  give  him  a 
look  back,  but  I  couldn't  do  much  more  just  then. 
I  said  to  myself,  I'd  keep  my  eye  on  him,  to  see  if 
he  came  out  after  the  first  act.  And  sure  enough  he 
did  ;  and  there  was  me  standing  in  his  way,  and  he 
put  his  hand  out  to  give  me  something,  and  just 
nodded,  and  went  on.  It  wasn't  money,  but  a  bit 
of  paper  twisted  up  and  something  wrote  on  it,  in 
pencil. 

"  I  thought  so,  and  where  were  you  to  meet 
him  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  knew  there  couldn't  be  no  harm,  him  be- 


126  THE   TOWN  TRAVELLER 

ing  my  own  uncle."  Polly  replied  with  the  air  of 
repelling  an  accusation. 

"  Of  course  not ;  who  said  there  was  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  the  next  night. 
And  there  he  was,  sure  enough,  with  his  face  half 
hid,  as  if  he  was  ashamed  of  himself,  as  well  he 
might  be.  And  he  begins  with  saying  as  he  was 
very  ill,  and  he  didn't  think  he'd  live  long.  But  I 
wasn't  to  think  as  he  forgot  me,  and  when  he  died 
I  should  find  myself  provided  for.  And  I  wasn't  to 
say  a  word  to  nobody,  or  he'd  take  my  name  out  of 
his  will  at  once." 

Gammon  laughed. 

"  It's  all  right,  Polly.  Don't  be  afraid.  All  be- 
tween me  and  you.  But  I'll  bet  he  didn't  tell  you 
where  he  was  living  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Of  course  not,  I  knew  that,"  said  Gammon,  with 
a  mysterious  air.  "  Well,  go  on.  He  met  you  again, 
didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Once  more,  only  once." 

"  Yes  ;  and  gave  you  little  presents,  and  told  you 
to  be  a  good  gyurl,  and  never  disgrace  your  uncle. 
Oh,  I  know  him  !  But  he  took  precious  good  care 
not  to  let  you  know  where  he  lived." 

"  But  you  know?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  No  fear,  Polly.  You  shall  too,  if  you  have  pa- 
tience ;  though  I  don't  say  it'll  be  just  yet." 

A  few  more  questions,  and  the  girl  had  told 
everything; ;  Mr.  Clover's  failure  to  keep  the  thircj 


GAMMON   THE   CRAFTY  I27 

appointment,  and  her  fruitless  watchings  since 
then, 

"  He  got  a  bit  timid,  Polly,  you  see,"  exclaimed 
Gammon.  "And  he  was  right  too,  you  couldn't 
keep  it  to  yourself,  you  see.  You  spoil  everything 
with  that  temper  of  yours,  my  dear.  Don't  be  cross, 
ray  beauty ;  it  don't  matter  much  ;  comes  to  the 
same  thing  in  the  end.  Now  just  look  here,  Polly. 
You  haven't  seen  those  two  ladies  again,  nor  either 
one  of  them  ?" 

"  You're  wrong  there,"  she  cried  triumphantly. 

"  Hollo  !  Steady  Polly.  It  wasn't  the  foreigner 
then?" 

"  How  did  you  know?  " 

Gammon  chuckled  over  his  good  luck. 

"  Never  mind.  We'll  come  to  that  another  time. 
Who  was  she  with,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Another  lady  and  gentleman,  much  younger 
than  her.  I  stood  near  'em  as  long  as  I  could,  and 
listened  with  all  my  ears,  but  I  couldn't  hear  noth- 
ing any  use.  But  I  saw  as  they  went  away  in  a 
private  kerridge,  all  three  together ;  I  saw  that 
much." 

"  And  found  where  they  went  to  ?  " 

"Go  along!     How  could  I?" 

"  Might  have  been  managed,  Polly,"  he  answered 
musingly.  "  Never  mind,  better  luck  next  time. 
What  you've  got  to  do,  my  angel,  is  to  find  where 
that  lady  lives — the  one  that  sat  next  our  friend, 
you  know,  not  the  foreigner.     Keep  your  eyes  open, 


128  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

Polly,  and  be  smart,  and  if  you  tell  me  where  she 
lives,  then  I  shall  have  something  more  to  say  to 
you.  It's  between  me  and  you,  my  beauty.  You 
just  bring  me  that  little  bit  of  information,  and  you 
won't  regret  it." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MR.  PARISH  PURSUES  A  BROUGHAM 

Christopher  Parish  lived  at  home ;  that  is  to 
say  he  was  not  a  lodger  under  an  alien  roof,  like  the 
majority  of  such  young  men  in  London,  but  abode 
with  his  own  people  ;  his  mother,  his  elder  brother 
and  his  brother's  wife.  They  had  a  decent  little 
house  in  Kennington,  managed,  rather  better  than 
such  houses  generally  are,  by  Mrs.  Parish  the 
younger,  who  was  childless,  and  thus  able  to  devote 
herself  to  what  she  called  "  hyjene  " — a  word  con- 
stantly on  her  lips,  and  on  those  of  her  husband. 
Mr.  Theodore  Parish,  aged  about  five-and-thirty, 
was  an  audit-clerk  in  the  offices  of  a  railway  com- 
pany, and  he  loved  to  expatiate  on  the  hardships  of 
his  position  ;  which  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  could  not 
hope  for  a  higher  income  than  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  ;  and  this  despite  the  trying  and  responsible 
nature  of  the  duties  he  discharged.  After  dwelling 
upon  this  injustice,  he  would  add,  with  peculiar 
gravity,  that  really,  in  certain  moods,  one  all  but 
inclined  to  give  a  hearing  to  the  arguments  of  So- 
cialistic agitators.  In  other  moods,  and  these  more 
9  "9 


I30  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

frequent,  Mr.  Parish  indulged  in  native  optimism, 
tempered  by  anxiety  in  matters,  of  "  hygene."  He 
was  much  preoccupied  with  the  laundry  ques- 
tion. 

"  Now,  are  you  quite  sure,  Ada,  that  this  laun- 
dress is  a  conscientious  woman  ?  Does  she  manage 
her  establishment  on  modern  principles?  I  beg 
you  will  make  a  personal  inspection.  If  ever  a 
a  laundress  refuses  to  let  you  make  a  personal  in- 
spection, be  sure  there  is  something  wrong.  Just 
think  how  vital  it  is — this  washing  question.  We 
send  our  clothes,  our  personal  garments,  to  a  strange 
house — to  be  mixed  up  with — " 

And  so  on,  at  great  length,  Mrs.  Theodore  listen- 
ing patiently  and  approvingly.  With  equal  solici- 
tude did  they  discuss  the  food  upon  their  table. 

"  Then,  I  shall  have  to  change  our  baker." 

"Ah?     Indeed!     Why?" 

"  I  hardly  like  to  tell  you,  but  perhaps  I  had 
better.  I  have  only  just  found  out  that  a  sewer- 
trap  quite  close  to  his  shop  gives  out  a  most  offen- 
sive affluvia,  especially  in  this  hot  weather.  The 
air  must  be  full  of  germs.  I  hardly  know  whether 
we  ought  to  eat  even  this  loaf.  What  do  you 
think?" 

Every  one's  dinner  was  spoilt.  Theodore  declared 
that  really,  when  one  considered  the  complicated 
and  expensive  machinery  of  local  government,  if 
sewer  traps  and  afflitvias  were  allowed  to  exist  in 
the  immediate    neighbourhood    of    bakers'    shops, 


MR.    PARISH    PURSUES   A    BROUGHAM      131 

why,  it  really  made  one  inclined  to  ask  whether  there 
might  not  be  something  in  the  arguments  of  the 
Socialists. 

Christopher  one  day  brought  home  some  knick- 
knack  which  he  had  bought  from  a  City  pedlar, 
one  of  those  men  who  stand  at  the  edge  of  the 
pavement,  between  a  vigilant  police  and  a  menacing 
vehicular  traffic.  It  amused  his  sister-in-law,  who 
showed  it  to  her  husband.  Theodore,  having  learnt 
whence  it  came  was  not  a  little  concerned. 

"  Now  if  that  isn't  like  Christopher  !  When  will 
that  boy  learn  ordinary  prudence  ?  The  idea  of 
buying  things  from  a  man  whose  clothes,  more  likely 
than  not,  reek  with  infection  !  Dear  me  !  Has  he 
never  reflected  where  those  fellows  live  ?  Destroy 
the  thing  at  once,  and  wash  your  hands  very  care- 
fully, I  beg.  I  do  hope  you  haven't  been  making 
pastry,  or  lemonade?  As  if  the  inevitable  risks  of 
life  were  not  enough — " 

It  was,  of  course,  utterly  unsuspected  by  the  elder 
members  of  the  household  that  Christopher  had 
"  formed  a  connexion  " — in  so  innocent  a  sense — 
with  a  young  woman  who  sold  programmes  and 
took  tips  at  the  theatre.  That  connexion  had  come 
about  in  the  simplest  way.  One  Sunday  evening, 
a  year  ago,  Christopher  was  returning  from  Clapham 
Common  on  the  top  of  a  crowded  tram,  and  next 
to  him  sat  a  girl  with  a  fresh  colour,  whom  he  eyed 
with  respectfully  furtive  admiration.  This  young 
person  had  paid  her  fare,  but  carelessly  dropped  the 


132  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

ticket,  and  it  chanced  that  an  inspector  who  came 
on  board  at  a  certain  point  raised  the  question 
whether  she  had  really  paid.  The  conductor  weakly 
expressed  a  doubt,  suggesting  that  this  passenger 
had  ascended  with  two  or  three  other  people,  since 
his  last  collection  of  fares.  Here  was  a  chance  for 
young  Mr.  Parish,  who  could  give  conscientious 
evidence.  Very  hot  in  the  face,  he  declared,  afifirmed 
and  asseverated  that  the  young  lady  was  telling  the 
truth,  and  his  energy  at  length  prevailed.  Of  course 
this  led  to  colloquy  between  the  two.  Polly  Sparkes 
— for  she  it  was — behaved  modestly  but  graciously. 
It  was  true  she  had  exhibited  short  temper  in  her 
passage  with  the  officials,  but  Christopher  thought 
this  a  becoming  spirit.  In  his  eyes  she  was  lovely 
and  could  do  nothing  amiss.  When  she  alighted, 
he  did  so  too,  frowning  upon  the  conductor  by  way 
of  final  rebuke.  Their  ways  appeared  to  be  the 
same ;  as  if  inadvertently,  they  walked  together 
along  Kennington  Road.  And  so  pleasant  was  their 
conversation  that  Polly  went  some  way  past  Mrs. 
Bubb's  before  saying  that  she  must  bid  her  new  com- 
panion good-by.  Trembling  at  his  audacity,  Chris- 
topher humbly  put  the  question  whether  he  might 
not  hope  to  see  the  young  lady  again  ;  and  Polly 
laughed  and  tittered,  and  said  she  didn't  know,  but 
p'raps.  Thereupon,  Mr.  Parish  nervously  made  an 
offering  of  his  name  and  address,  and  Polly,  tittering 
again,  exclaimed  that  they  lived  quite  near  each 
other,  and  playfully  made  known  the  position  of  hei 


-MR.    PARISH    PURSUES   A    BROUGHAM      133 

dwelling.  So  were  the  proprieties  complied  with, 
and  so  began  the  enslavement  of  Christopher. 

He  had  since  told  all  there  was  to  tell  about  his 
family  and  circumstances,  Polly  in  return  throwing 
out  a  few  vague  hints  as  to  her  own  private  affairs. 
Christopher  would  have  liked  to  invite  her  to  his 
home,  but  lacked  courage  ;  his  mother,  his  brother 
and  Mrs.  Theodore — what  would  they  say  ?  The 
rigour  of  their  principles  overawed  him.  He  often 
thought  of  abandoning  his  home,  but  neither  for 
that  step  had  he  the  necessary  spirit  of  independence. 
Miss  Sparkes  no  longer  seemed  to  him  of  virtue 
compact ;  he  sadly  admitted  in  his  wakeful  hours 
that  she  had  a  temper ;  he  often  doubted  whether 
she  ever  gave  him  a  serious  thought.  But  the  fact 
remained  that  Polly  did  not  send  him  about  his 
business,  and  at  times  even  seemed  glad  to  see  him. 
Until  that  awful  night  when,  by  deplorable  accident, 
he  encountered  her  near  Lincoln's  Inn.  That  surely 
was  the  end  of  everything.  Christopher,  after 
tottering  home  he  knew  not  how,  wept  upon  his 
pillow.  Of  course  he  was  jealous  as  well  as  pro- 
foundly hurt.  Not  without  some  secret  reason  had 
Polly  met  him  so  fiercely,  brutally.  He  would  try 
to  think  of  her  no  more  ;  she  was  clearly  not  destined 
to  be  his. 

For  a  full  fortnight  he  shunned  the  whole  region 
of  London  in  which  Polly  might  he  met.  He  was 
obliged,  of  course,  to  pass  each  night  in  Kennington, 
but  he  kept  himself  within  doors  there.     Then  he 


134  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

could  bear  his  misery  no  longer.  Three  lachrymose 
letters  had  elicited  no  response ;  he  wrote  once 
more  and  thus  : 

"  Dearest  Miss  Sparkes, — If  you  do  not  wish  to 
be  the  cause  of  my  death  I  hereby  ask  you  to  see  me, 
if  only  for  the  very  shortest  space  of  time.  If  you 
refuse,  I  know  I  shall  do  something  rash.  To-night 
and  to-morrow  night  at  half-past  ten  I  will  be 
standing  at  the  south  end  of  Westminster  Bridge, 
the  river  will  be  near  me  \i  you  are  not ;  remember 
that.     Yours,  for  now  and  eternity.  C.  J.  P." 

To  this  dread  summons  Polly  at  length  yielded. 
She  met  Christopher,  and  they  paced  together  on 
the  embankment  in  front  of  St.  Thomas's  Hospital, 
It  rained  a  little,  and  was  so  close  that  they  both 
dripped  with  perspiration. 

"  P'r'aps  I  was  a  bit  short  with  you,"  Polly 
admitted,  after  listening  to  her  admirer's  remon- 
strances, uttered  in  a  choking  voice.  "  But  I  can't 
stand  being  spied  after,  and  spied  after  I  won't 
be!" 

"  I  have  told  you,  Polly,  at  the  very  least  sixty  or 
seventy  times,  that  I've  never  done  such  a  thing, 
and  wouldn't,  and  couldn't.  It  never  came  into  my 
'ead." 

"Well  then,  we  won't  say  no  more  about  it  and 
don't  put  me  out  again,  that's  all." 

"  But  there's  something  else,  Polly.     You  know 


MR.    PARISH    PURSUES  A    BROUGHAM      135 

very  well,  Polly,  what  a  lot  I   think  of  you — don't 
you  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  dessay,"  she  replied,  with  careless  indul- 
gence. 

"  Then — why  won't  you  let  me  see  you  oftener, 
— and — and — that  kind  of  thing,  you  know." 

This  was  vague  but  perfectly  intelligible  to  the 
hearer.     She  gave  an  impatient  little  laugh. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly  !     Go  on  !  " 
"  But   it  isnt  silly.      You  know  what  I    mean. 
And  you  said — " 

"  There  you  go,  bringing  up  what  I  said.  Don't 
worry  me.  If  you  can't  talk  quiet  and  friendly,  we'd 
better  not  see  each  other  at  all.  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  that  was  best,  for  both  of  us." 

Polly  had  never  been  less  encouraging.  She 
seemed  preoccupied  and  spoke  in  an  idle,  inattentive 
way.  Her  suggestion  that  they  should  "  part 
friends,"  though  she  returned  upon  it  several  times, 
did  not  sound  as  if  it  were  made  in  earnest,  and 
this  was  Christopher's  one  solace. 

"  Will  you  meet  me,  regular,  once  a  week?  "he 
pleaded.    "Just  for  a  talk!  " 

"  No,  it's  too  often." 

"  I  know  what  that  means  !  "  exclaimed  the  young 
man,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul.  "  There's  some- 
body else.     "  Yes,  that's  it,  there's  somebody  else." 

"  Well,  and  what  if  there  was  ?  "  asked  Polly, 
looking  far  away.  "  I  don't  see  as  it  would  be  any 
business  of  yours." 


136  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  Oh,  just  listen  to  that  !  "  cried  Christopher. 
"  That's  how  a  girl  talks  to  you  when  she  knows 
you're  ready  to  jump  into  the  river!  It's  my  belief 
that  girls  haven't  much  feeling." 

The  outrageous  audacity  of  this  avowal  saved  the 
speaker  from  Polly's  indignation.  She  saw  that  he 
was  terribly  hard  driven,  and,  in  spite  of  herself,  once 
more  softened  towards  him.  For  Polly  had  never 
disliked  Mr.  Parish  ;  from  the  very  first  his  ingenu- 
ous devotedness  excited  in  her  something,  however 
elementary,  of  reciprocal  feeling  ;  she  thought  him 
comely  to  look  upon,  and  had  often  reflected  upon 
how  pleasant  it  was  to  rule  a  man  by  her  slightest 
look  or  word.  To  be  sure,  Christopher's  worldly 
position  was  nothing  to  boast  of,  but  one  knew  him 
for  the  steady,  respectable  young  clerk,  who  is  more 
likely  than  not  to  advance  by  modest  increments 
of  salary.  Miss  Sparkes  would  have  perceived,  had 
she  been  capable  of  intellectual  perception,  that 
Christopher  answered  fairly  well  to  one  of  her  ideals. 
Others  there  were,  which  tended  to  draw  her  from 
him  ;  but  she  had  never  yet  deliberately  turned  her 
back  upon  the  young  man. 

So  now,  instead  of  answering  bitterness  with 
wrath,  she  spoke  more  gently  than  of  wont. 

"  Don't  take  on  in  that  way.  You'll  only  have  a 
headache  to-morrow.  I  can't  promise  to  meet  you 
regular,  but  you  can  write,  and  I'll  let  you  know 
when  I'm  ready  for  a  talk.  There,  now,  won't  that 
do?" 


MR.    PARISH    PURSUES   A    BROUGHAM      137 

Christopher  had  to  make  it  do,  and  presently  ac- 
cepted the  conditions  with  tolerable  grace.  Before 
they  parted,  Polly  even  assured  him  that,  if  ever 
there  zvas  any  one  else  she  would  deal  honestly  with 
him,  and  let  him  know.  This  being  as  much  as  to 
say  that  he  might  still  hope,  Christopher  cast  away 
hia  thoughts  of  self-destruction,  and  went  home 
with  an  appetite  for  a  late  supper. 

Two  months  elapsed  before  anything  of  moment 
occurred  in  the  relations  thus  established.  Then, 
at  one  of  their  brief  meetings,  Polly  delighted  the 
young  man  by  telling  him  that  he  might  wait  for 
her  outside  of  the  theatre  on  a  certain  evening  of 
the  same  week.  Hitherto  such  awaitings  had  been 
strictly  forbidden. 

"  Won't  I  just !  "  cried  Mr.  Parish.  "And  you'll 
come  and  have  some  supper?  " 

"  I  can't  promise.  I  may  want  to  ask  you  to 
do  something  for   me.     Just  you   be  ready,  that's 

all." 

He  promised  exultantly,  and  when  the  evening 
came  took  up  his  position  a  full  hour  before  Polly 
could  be  expected  to  come  forth. 

Now  this  was  the  first  night  of  a  new  piece  at 
Polly's  theatre,  and  she,  long  watching  in  vain  for 
the  reappearance  of  the  lady  whose  address  she  was 
to  discover  for  Mr.  Gammon,  thought  it  a  very  pos- 
sible thing  that  a  person  who  had  been  twice  to  see 
the  old  entertainment  might  attend  the  first  per- 
formance of   the  new.     Her  mysterious  uncle  had 


138  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

never  again  communicated  with  her,  and  Polly  be- 
gan to  doubt  what  Mr.  Gammon's  knowledge  really 
was,  but  she  had  given  her  confidence  beyond  re- 
call, and,  though  with  many  vicissitudes  of  feeling, 
she  still  wished  to  keep  Gammon  sole  ally  in  this 
strange  affair.  Once  or  twice,  indeed,  she  had  felt 
disposed  to  tell  Christopher  that  there  was  "  some 
one  else,"  but  nothing  Gammon  had  said  fully  jus- 
tified this,  and  Polly,  though  an  emotional  young 
woman,  had  a  good  deal  of  prudence.  One  thing 
was  certain,  she  very  much  desired  to  bring  her  old 
enemy  to  the  point  of  a  declaration.  How  she 
would  receive  it  when  it  came  she  could  not  wholly 
determine. 

Her  conjecture  regarding  the  unknown  lady  was 
justified.  Among  the  first  who  entered  the  stalls 
was  a  man  whom  Polly  seemed  to  remember,  and 
close  behind  him  came  first  a  younger  lady,  then 
the  one  for  whom  her  eyes  had  searched  night  after 
night.  In  supplying  them  with  programmes,  Polly 
observed  and  listened  with  feverish  attention.  The 
elder  woman  had  slightly  grizzled  hair ;  her  age 
could  not  be  less  than  fifty,  but  she  was  in  good 
health  and  spirits.  With  the  intention  of  describing 
her  to  Gammon,  Polly  noticed  that  she  had  a  some- 
what masculine  nose,  high  in  the  bridge. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  end  of  the  piece 
Polly,  dressed  for  departure,  came  forth  and  dis- 
covered her  faithful  slave. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  she  said,  checking  his  blan- 


^   MR.    PARISH    PURSUES   A    BROUGHAM      139 

dishments.  "  I  told  you  there  might  be  something 
to  do  for  me,  and  there  is." 

Parish  was  all  eagerness. 

"  There'll  be  three  people  coming  out  from  the 
stalls,  a  gentleman  and  two  ladies.  I'll  show  you 
them — see?  They'll  drive  off  in  a  kerridge — see? 
And  I  want  you  to  find  out  where  they  go." 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  startling  to  Chris- 
topher in  whose  mind  began  a  whirl  of  suspicions 
and  fears. 

"  Why  ?     What  for  ?  "  he  asked  involuntarily. 

Polly  was  short  with  him. 

"  All  right,  if  you  won't  do  it,  say  so,  and,  I'll  ask 
somebody  else,  I've  no  time  to  lose." 

He  gasped  and  stammered.  Yes,  yes,  of  course 
he  would  do  it ;  he  had  not  dreamt  of  refusing. 
He  would  run  after  the  carriage,  however  far — 

"  Don't  be  a  silly.  You'll  have  to  take  a  'ansom 
and  tell  the  driver  to  follow — see?  " 

Yes  ;  oh  yes,  of  course.  He  would  do  so.  He 
trembled  with  excessive  nervousness  and  but  for  the 
sharp,  contemptuous  directions  given  him  by  Miss 
Sparkes  must  have  hopelessly  bungled  the  under- 
taking. Indeed  it  was  not  easy  to  carry  out  in  the 
confusion  before  a  theatre  when  the  audience  is 
leaving,  and  bearing  in  mind  the  regulations  con- 
cerning vehicles.  Their  scheme  was  based  upon  the 
certainty  that  the  carriage  must  proceed  at  a  very 
moderate  pace  for  some  two  or  three  hundred  yards  ; 
within  that  limit  or  a  very  little  beyond  it — at  all 


I40  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

events  before  his  breath  was  exhausted — Christopher 
would  certainly  be  able  to  hail  a  cab. 

"  Tell  the  cabby  they're  friends  of  yours,"  said 
Polly,  "  and  you're  going  to  the  same  'ouse.  You 
look  quite  respectable  enough,  with  your  'igh  'at. 
That's  what  I  like  about  jfou  ;  you  always  looks  re- 
spectable." 

"  But — but,  he  will  set  me  down  right  beside  the 
people — " 

"  Well,  what  if  he  does,  gooseberry.  Can't  you 
just  pay  him  quietly  ?  They'll  think  you're  for  next 
door." 

"  But — but  it  may  be  a  big  house  by  itself  some- 
where— " 

"  Well,  silly  ?  They'll  think  it's  a  mistake,  that's 
all.  What's  the  matter  in  the  dark  ?  You  do  as  I 
tell  you.  And  when  you've  got  to  know  the  address 
— you  can  take  your  time  about  that,  of  course — 
come  back  along  Shaftesbury  Avenue,  and  give  three 
knocks  at  the  door,  and  I'll  come  down." 

It  flashed  through  Christopher's  mind  that  he 
would  be  terribly  late  in  getting  home,  but  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  If  he  refused  this  undertaking 
or  failed  to  carry  it  out  successfully  Polly  would 
cast  him  off.  The  gloom  of  a  desperate  mood  fell 
upon  him.  He  had  the  feeling  of  a  detective,  or  of 
a  criminal,  he  knew  not  which  ;  the  mystery  of  the 
affair  was  a  hideous  oppression. 

Even  the  initial  step,  that  of  watching  the  trio  of 
strangers   into   their   brougham,  was  not    without 


MR.   PARISH    PURSUES  A   BROUGHAM      141 

difficulty.  The  pavement  began  to  be  crowded. 
Clutching  her  slave  by  the  arm,  Polly  managed  to 
hold  a  position  whence  she  could  see  the  people  who 
descended  the  front  steps  of  the  theatre,  and  at 
length  her  energy  was  rewarded.  The  ladies  she 
could  not  have  recognised,  for  they  were  muffled 
against  the  night  air ;  but  their  male  companion 
she  "spotted" — that  was  the  word  in  her  mind — 
with  certainty. 

"  There  !  See  those  three  !  That's  them,"  she 
whispered  excitedly.     "  Off  you  go  !  " 

And  off  he  went,  as  if  life  depended  upon  it  :  his 
eyes  on  the  brougham,  his  heart  throbbing  violently, 
moisture  dropping  from  his  forehead  and  making 
his  collar  limp.  The  carriage  disengaged  itself ;  the 
pace  quickened,  he  began  to  run  and  collided  with 
pedestrians  who  cursed  him.  Now — now  or  never 
— A  cab ! 

By  good  luck  he  plunged  into  a  hansom  wanting 
a  fare. 

**  The  carriage — friends  of  mine — that  carriage  !  " 

"  Ketch  'em  up  ?  "  asked  the  driver  briskly. 

"  No — same  'ouse — follow — " 

As  he  flung  himself  into  the  vehicle,  he  seriously 
feared  he  was  on  the  point  of  breaking  a  blood-vessel, 
never  had  he  been  at  such  extremity  of  breath.  But 
his  eyes  clung  to  the  brougham,  in  dread  lest  he 
should  lose  sight  of  it,  or  confuse  it  with  another. 
The  driver  whipped  his  horse.  Thank  goodness, 
the  carriage  remained  well  in  sight.     But  if  there 


142  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

should  come  a  block !  A  perilous  point  was  Pic- 
cadilly Circus.  Never,  it  seemed  to  him,  had  the 
streets  of  London  roared  with  such  a  tumult  of 
traffic.  Right  !  the  Circus  was  passed ;  now  Pic- 
cadilly with  its  blessed  quietness.  What  a  speed 
they  kept !  Hyde  park  Corner,  Knightsbridge 
and — what  road  was  that  ?  Christopher's  geography 
failed  him ;  he  pretended  to  no  familiarity  with  the 
West  End. 

On  swept  his  hansom  in  what  he  felt  to  be  a  most 
impudent  pursuit ;  nay,  for  all  he  knew  it  might 
subject  him  to  the  suspicion  of  the  police.  The 
cabby  need  not  follow  so  close  ;  why,  the  horse's 
nose  all  but  touched  the  brougham  now  and  then. 
How  much  further  ?  How  was  he  to  get  back  ?  He 
could  not  possibly  reach  home  till  one  in  the  morn- 
ing 

The  brougham  made  a  sharp  curve,  the  hansom 
followed.     Then  came  a  sudden  stop. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   NAME   OF   GILDERSLEEVE 

A  SQUARE ;  imposing  houses  about  a  space  of 
verdure.  That  was  what  Christopher  perceived,  as 
he  looked  wildly  round,  flung  back  the  apron, 
jumped  out.  His  position  was  awful ;  voices  of  the 
persons  alighting  from  the  brougham  seemed  to 
sound  at  his  very  ear  ;  he  had  become  one  of  the 
party ;  the  man  in  evening  dress  stared  at  him. 
But  even  in  this  dread  moment,  so  bent  was  he  on 
fulfilling  his  mission,  that  he  at  once  cast  an  eye 
over  the  front  of  the  house,  to  fix  it  in  his  memory. 
There  was  a  magnificent  display  of  flowers  at  every 
window ;  the  houses  immediately  right  and  left  had 
no  flowers  at  all. 

Then  he  fumbled  for  money.  Coppers,  a  six- 
pence, a  shilling ;  no  other  small  change,  and  he 
durst  not  offer  so  little  as  eighteenpence,  (How- 
ever, Heaven  be  thanked  !  the  people  had  gone  in 
and  the  brougham  was  moving  away.)  In  his  purse 
he  had  half  a  sovereign. 

"  Got  change?  "  he  inquired,  as  boldly  as  possible. 

"How  much?"  returned  the  driver,  curtly;  for 

143 


144  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

he  had  noticed  with  curiosity  that  his  fare  ex- 
changed no  greeting  with  the  carriage  people,  and 
that  the  door  was  shut. 

"  Change  for  half  a  sovereign, — seven  shillings 
would  do." 

"  Ain't  got  it.  See  ;  fourpence  in  'apence,  that's 
all." 

The  man's  eye  began  to  alarm  Christopher.  He 
shook  with  indecision  ;  he  gulped  down  his  bitter- 
ness ;  he  handed  the  golden  coin. 

"  All  right  ;  never  mind  change." 

"  Thanky,  sir,  good-night." 

And  Mr.  Parish  was  alone  on  the  pavement.  So 
grievously  did  he  feel  for  the  loss  of  that  half- 
sovereign,  that  for  some  moments  he  could  think 
of  nothing  else.  His  heart  burned  against  Polly. 
What  had  she  got  to  do  with  these  people  in  the 
big  house  ?  How  could  he  be  sure  that  it  did  not 
imply  some  shameful  secret?  And  he  must  go 
throwing  away  his  hard-earned  money  !  Gladly  he 
would  have  spent  it  on  a  supper  for  Polly ;  but  to 
pay  ten  shillings  for  a  half-crown  drive !  A  whole 
blessed  half-sovereign  ! 

Another  carriage  drove  up  and  stopped  at  the 
next  house.  Christopher  remembered  that  he  must 
discover  the  address,  an  easy  matter  enough.  He 
found  that  the  square  was  called  Stanhope  Gardens. 
He  noted  the  number  of  the  house  with  flowers, 
then,  weary,  disgusted,  he  started  on  his  eastward 
walk.     Omnibuses  of  course  there  were  none.     The 


TIE    NAME    OF   GILDERSLEEVE  145 

chance  of  a  train  at  some  underground  station 
seemed  too  doubtful  to  think  about  ;  in  any  case 
he  had  no  more  money  to  waste.  On  he  plodded, 
heavily,  angrily,  Cromwell  Road,  Brompton  Road, 
at  last  Piccadilly,  and  so  into  familiar  districts, 
though  he  had  never  walked  here  so  late  at  night. 
-Of  course  there  would  be  nasty  questions  to-morrow  ; 
Theodore  would  look  grave,  and  Ada  would  be  virtu- 
ously sour,  and  his  mother — but  perhaps  they  would 
not  worry  her  by  disclosing  such  things.  Unac- 
customed to  express  himself  with  violence,  Chris- 
topher at  about  half-past  twelve  found  some  relief 
in  a  timid  phrase  or  two  of  swearing. 

When  he  reached  Shaftesbury  Avenue,  he  was 
dog-tired.  The  streets  had  now  become  very  quiet ; 
he  felt  a  doubt  as  to  the  possibility  of  knocking  at  a 
house  door.  But  Polly  had  said  he  was  to  do  so, 
be  the  hour  what  it  might.  The  front  of  the  house 
was  dark  ;  not  a  glimmer  in  any  window.  Doubt- 
fully he  drew  near  and  knocked  thrice. 

Minutes  passed  ;  nearly  five,  in  fact  ;  then  he 
knocked  again.  He  would  wait  five  minutes  more, 
and  then — 

But  the  door  softly  opened. 

"  That  you  ?  "  said  Polly's  voice. 

"  Yes;  it  is," 

She  opened  the  door  wider,  and  he  saw  by  the 
light  from  the  street  that  she  was  dressed  as  usual. 

"  How  late  you  are  !     Well  ?     Can't  you  speak  ?  " 

"  I'm    dead  beat,  that's  the  truth,"  he  replied, 
10 


146  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

leaning  against  the  door-post.  "  Walked  back  all 
the  way  from  South  Kensington." 

"Oh,  it  was  there,  was  it?  "  said  Polly,  without 
heed  to  his  complaint.     "  What's  the  address  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Polly,"  broke  from  Chris- 
topher's dry  lips,  "  I  think  you  might  show  a  bit 
more  feeling  for  a  fellow,  when  he's  walked  himself 
to  death — " 

"You  might  have  took  a  cab,  just  for  this  once." 

"A  cab!  Why,  the  other  one  cost  me  half-a- 
sovereign  !  " 

"  Half-a-sovereign  !  "  echoed  Polly  in  amazement. 
"  To  South  Kensington  ?  " 

It  did  not  occur  to  Mr.  Parish  that  such  a  detail 
might  be  left  unmentioned.  In  these  little  matters 
there  is  a  difference  between  class  and  class.  Polly 
was  not,  of  course,  surprised  at  his  letting  her  know 
what  the  mission  had  cost  him,  but  the  sum  made 
her  indignant. 

"  Well,  he  'ad  you,  that  cabby  !  " 

Christopher  related  the  circumstances, — still  lean- 
ing in  exhaustion  against  the  door-post, — and  Miss 
Sparkes,  who  under  no  conceivable  stress  could 
have  suffered  herself  to  be  so  "  done  out  of  "  a  piece 
of  gold,  scarcely  knew  whether  to  despise  or  to  pity 
him.  After  all,  a  compassionate  feeling  prevailed, 
sure  sign  that  there  was  something  disinterested  in 
her  association  with  this  young  man. 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  never  thought  it 
'ud  cost  you  that  much." 


THE   NAME   OF   GILDERSLEEVE  I47 

"  I  shouldn't  care  a  bit,"  Christopher  replied,  "  If 
you  treated  me  better  now  I've  got  here," 

Polly  moved  just  a  little  nearer  to  him  ;  ever 
so  little,  but  the  movement  was  appreciable.  Un- 
fortunately, Christopher  was  too  weary  to  notice 
it. 

"  What  was  the  address  ?  "  she  asked,  in  an  under- 
tone, which,  had  but.  Mr.  Parish  understood,  fitly 
accompanied  that  little  movement. 

He  told  her,  bluntly,  and  Polly  repeated  the 
words. 

"And  now  I  suppose  I  may  say  good-night," 
Christopher  added,  still  with  discontent. 

"  Well,  thank  you  very  much  for  getting  me  that 
address." 

"  But  you  won't  tell  me  what  you  want  it  for  ?  " 

"  I  will  some  time.  I  can't  just  now.  It's  awful 
late,  and  we  mustn't  stand  talking  here." 

Again  she  came  one  step  nearer.  Now,  if  Chris- 
topher Parish  had  not  lost  half  a  sovereign,  or  if  he 
had  been  less  worn  out,  or  if  the  mystery  of  the 
evening  had  not  lain  so  heavy  on  his  mind,  assuredly 
he  would  have  noticed  this  onward  coming ;  for  as 
a  rule,  the  young  man  was  sensitive  and  perceptive 
enough,  all  things  considered.  Alas !  he  did  not 
look  into  Polly's  face,  which  in  the  dusk  of  the  door- 
way had  turned  towards  his. 

"  I'll  be  going  then,"  he  muttered,  "  Good-night ! 
Jolly  long  walk  before  me  still." 

*'  I'm  very  sorry.     I  am  really." 


148  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Oh,  never  mind.     When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?  " 

The  crucial  moment  was  past.  Polly  drew  a  step 
back,  and  held  the  door. 

"  I'll  write — before  long.  Good-night  and  thank 
you. 

Mr.  Parish  plodded  away  down  the  Avenue,  say- 
ing to  himself  that  he  was  blest  if  he'd  be  made  a 
fool  of  like  this  much  longer. 

The  next  morning,  Polly  wrote  a  line  to  Mr. 
Gammon,  and  two  days  later,  on  Sunday,  they  met 
in  that  little  strip  of  garden  on  the  Embankment 
which  lies  between  Charing  Cross  Station  and 
Waterloo  Bridge.  It  was  the  first  week  of  October  ; 
a  cold  wind  rustled  the  yellowing  plane-trees,  and 
open-air  seats  offered  no  strong  temptations.  The 
two  conversed  as  they  walked  along.  Polly  had  not 
mentioned  in  her  letter  any  special  reason  for  wish- 
ing to  see  Mr.  Gammon,  nor  did  she  hasten  to  make 
known  her  discovery. 

"  Why  do  you  wear  a  'at  like  that  on  a  Sunday?" 
she  began  by  asking  tartly, 

"  Because  it's  comfortable,  I  suppose,"  answered 
Gammon,  reflecting  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  not 
very  respectful  to  come  to  this  rendezvous  in  a 
"  bowler."  Polly  had  never  mentioned  the  matter 
before,  though  she  had  thought  about  it.  "  You 
like  the  chimney-pot  better  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  I  do.  On  a  Sunday,  too,  who 
wouldn't  ?" 

"  I'll  bear  it  in  mind,  my  dear.     My  chimney-pot 


THE    NAME    OF   GILDERSLEEVE  I49 

wants  ironing.     Have  it  done  to-morrow,  if  I  can 
find  time." 

Polly  scrutinised  the  costume  of  a  girl  walking 
with  a  soldier,  and  asked  all  at  once,  indifferently. 

"  Do  you  know  anybody  called  Gildersleeve  ?  " 

"Gildersleeve?    Don't  think  so.     No.     Why?" 

She  searched  his  face  to  make  sure  that  he  did 
not  simulate  ignorance. 

"  Well,  you  wanted  me  to  find  out  where  that 
lady  lived, — you  know, — her  as  was  with  Mr.  C.  at 
the  theatre — " 

"  And  youVe  got  it  ?  "  cried  Gammon,  excitedly. 

Yes,  she  had  got  it;  and  by  consulting  a  directory 
at  a  public-house  she  had  discovered  the  name  of 
the  family  residing  at  that  address.  Gildersleeve  ? 
The  name  conveyed  nothing  to  Mr.  Gammon  ;  none 
the  less,  he  was  delighted. 

"Good    for   you,    Polly!    But  how   did   you    do 

it?" 

She  put  on  an  air  of  mystery.  Never  mind  how ; 
there  was  the  address,  if  he  could  make  any  use  of 
it.     Gammon  smiled  provokingly. 

"  Some  friend  of  yours,  eh  ?  You're  well  off  for 
friends,  Polly.  I  ask  no  questions,  my  dear ;  no 
business  of  mine.  Much  obliged  to  you  all  the 
same." 

"  If  you're  so  particular  about  who  it  was,"  said 
Polly,  with  her  air  of  pique  and  propriety,  "  well  it's 
a  boy.     So  you  needn't  look  at  me  like  that." 

"  A  boy,  eh  ?  " 


I50  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"Well,  that's  what  I  think  him.  He's  a  young 
clerk  in  the  City  as  I've  known  long  enough,  and  / 
think  him  a  boy.  Of  course  you're  always  ready  to 
believe  harm  of  me, — thafs  nothing  new.  And  if 
the  truth  was  known,  you  go  talkin'  to  Mrs.  Bubb 
and  them  Cheesemans — " 

"  I  don't !    I  told  you  I  shouldn't  and  I  don't !  " 

"You  do!" 

"  It's  a  lie  !  " 

"  You're  one  yourself ! "  retorted  Polly,  with 
heat. 

Thereupon  Mr.  Gammon  turned  sharp  about  and 
walked  off.  Polly  could  not  believe  that  he  would 
really  go  ;  scorning  to  look  back,  she  paced  on  for 
some  minutes,  but  no  familiar  step  approached  her. 
When  at  length  she  looked  round,  Mr.  Gammon 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  This  extraordinary  be- 
haviour she  attributed  to  jealousy,  and  so  was  not 
entirely  displeased.  But  the  idea  of  leaving  her 
in  the  middle  of  the  street,  as  one  might  say ! 
Did  one  ever !  And  just  after  he'd  got  what  he 
wanted  ! 

"  All  right,  old  fellow  !  Wait  till  you  want  to  see 
me  again,  that's  all." 

To  have  his  word  disbelieved  was  the  one  thing 
fatal  to  Gammon's  temper.  He  strode  off  in  a  tow- 
ering rage,  determined  to  hold  no  more  communica- 
tion with  Miss  Sparkes,  and  blaming  himself  for 
having  got  into  such  an  ambiguous  position  towards 
her.     As  if  he  had  ever  really  cared  one  snap  of  the 


THE    NAME    OF   GILDERSLEEVE  151 

fingers  for  the  red-headed  spitfire  !  She  to  tell  him 
to  his  face  that  his  word  was  not  to  be  trusted  !  He 
had  never  stood  that  yet,  from  man  or  woman  ! 

At  this  rate,  he  would  presently  have  no  female 
friends  at  all.  Mrs.  Clover  he  had  not  once  seen 
since  the  evening  at  Mrs.  Bubb's,  and  every  day 
that  went  by  put  a  greater  distance  between  them. 
He  understood  her  unfriendliness;  she  thought  this 
the  best  way  of  destroying  any  hopes  he  might  still 
entertain  with  reference  to  Minnie  ;  yes,  that  was 
the  only  possible  explanation  of  her  silence.  It  was 
too  bad  ;  Mrs.  Clover  might  have  put  more  faith  in 
him.  Now  he  would  not  visit  her ;  he  would  7iot 
write.  If  she  wished  to  see  him  again,  let  her  ac- 
knowledge the  wrong  she  had  done  him. 

As  for  the  muddle  about  her  husband,  be  hanged 
to  it !  He  would  think  no  more  about  the  business. 
Ten  to  one  this  address  Polly  had  obtained  would 
be  quite  useless.  How  could  he  go  to  strangers 
(named  Gildersleeve)  and  coolly  inquire  of  them 
whether  they  knew  a  man  named  Clover  ?  Of  course 
they  would  have  him  kicked  into  the  street ;  and 
serve  him  right. 

Polly  and  her  hoy !  A  young  City  clerk,  eh  ? 
Old  enough  to  wear  a  chimney-pot,  he'd  be  bound. 
Polly  was  fond  of  chimney-pots.  There,  he  had 
done  with  her,  and  with  Clover  and  Quodling  and 
Gildersleeve,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  puzzle. 

As  he  suddenly  entered  the  house,  Moggie  ran  to 
him  up  the  kitchen  stairs. 


152  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  There's  been  a  gentleman  for  you,  Mr.  Gam- 
mon." 

"  Oh  !     Who  was  it  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Greenacres — driving  a  trap,  and  the  'orse 
wouldn't  stand  still  and  he  said  he'd  see  you  some 
other  time." 

"  Greenacres,  eh  ?    All  right." 

He  sat  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  his  bedroom, 
unable  to  decide  how  he  should  spend  the  rest  of 
the  day.  After  all,  perhaps  he  ought  not  to  have 
abandoned  Polly  so  abruptly.  In  her  own  way,  she 
had  been  doing  him  a  kindness ;  and  as  for  her  tem- 
per, well,  she  couldn't  help  it — 

He  would  go  to  Dulwich  and  see  the  bow-wows. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN  ALLY  IN   THE  QUEST 

Commercially  he  was  doing  well.  Quodling 
and  Son  were  more  than  satisfied  with  him.  Ex- 
cellent prospects  lay  ahead,  and  this  time  it  would 
assuredly  be  his  own  fault  if  he  had  not  secured  the 
"  permanency  "  so  much  desired  for  him  by  Mrs. 
Clover. 

By  the  by,  would  this  make  any  difference  ?  What 
if  he  let  Mrs.  Clover  know  of  his  greatly  improved 
position  ?  She  might  reconsider  things.  And  yet 
as  often  as  he  thought  of  Minnie,  he  felt  that  her 
mother's  objection  corresponded  only  too  well  with 
the  disposition  of  the  girl.  Minnie  was  not  ior  him. 
Well  and  good  ;  he  would  find  somebody  else. 

Polly  Sparkes  ? — Polly  be  hanged  !  Why  did  her 
eyes  and  her  teeth  and  her  rosy  cheeks  keep  plagu- 
ing him  ?  He  had  told  himself  times  innumerable, 
that  he  cared  not  a  snap  of  the  fingers  for  Polly  and 
all  her  highly  coloured  attractions.  If  only  he  had 
not  been  such  a  fool  as  to  treat  her  shabbily  last 
Sunday  morning!  He  felt  sorry  and  couldn't  get 
rid  of  the  vexation. 

It  worried  him  this  afternoon  asheleft  Quodling's 

HZ 


I54  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

in  Norton  Folgate  and  walked  toward  the  Bank. 
He  was  thinking,  too,  of  a  poor  fellow  with  a  large 
family,  for  whom  he  had  tried  these  last  few  days  to 
find  employment,  without  the  usual  success.  In 
Threadneedle  Street  a  hand  arrested  him. 

"  Just  the  man  I  wanted,"  said  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Greenacre.  He  was  in  an  elegant  overcoat,  with  a 
silk  hat  of  the  newest  fashion.  "  You  remember 
your  promise  ?  " 

"  What  promise  ?" 

"  Nonsense  !  But  we  can't  talk  about  it  here. 
Come  to  the  Bilboes — Don't  know  the  Bilboes  ? 
What  a  mood  you're  in  to-day." 

Mr.  Gammon  flattered  himself  that  he  knew  the 
City  tolerably  well,  but  with  the  place  of  refresh- 
ment to  which  his  friend  now  led  him  he  was  totally 
unacquainted.  It  stood,  or  lurked,  in  a  very  ob- 
scure by-way  between  the  Bank  and  St.  Paul's,  and 
looked  externally  by  no  means  inviting  ;  within, 
but  for  the  absence  of  daylight  at  all  times,  it  was 
comfortable  enough  and  peculiarly  quiet ;  some 
thing  between  an  old  inn  and  a  modern  public- 
house,  with  several  small  rooms  for  eating,  drinking, 
smoking,  or  any  other  legitimate  occupation.  The 
few  men  who  were  about  had  a  prosperous  appear- 
ance, and  Gammon  saw  that  they  did  not  belong  to 
his  special  world. 

"  What  does  the  name  mean  ?  "  he  inquired,  as 
they  seated  themselves  under  a  gas-jet  in  a  corner 
made  cosy  with  a  deep  divan. 


AN   ALLY    IN   THE    QUEST  155 

"  Bilboes?  Oh,  I  originated  it,  in  the  days  gone 
by.  The  proprietor  was  a  man  called  William 
Bowes — you  perceive  ?  Poor  little  Jimmy  Todd 
used  to  roar  about  it.  The  best  natured  fellow  that 
ever  lived.  You've  heard  me  speak  of  him — second 
son  of  Sir  Luke  Todd.  Died,  poor  boy,  out  in 
India." 

"  What  promise  of  mine  were  you  talking  about  ?  " 
asked  Gammon,  when  an  order  for  drinks  had  been 
given." 

"Promise?  Promise? — Nonsense!  You're  wool- 
gathering to-day,  my  dear  boy — By  the  by  I  called 
at  your  place  on  Sunday.  I  was  driving  a  very 
fresh  pony,  new  to  harness  ;  promised  to  trot  her 
round  a  little  for  a  friend  of  mine.  Thought  you 
might  have  liked  a  little  turn  on  the  Surrey 
roads." 

Greenacre  chatted  with  his  usual  fluency  and 
seemed  at  ease  in  the  world. 

"  You're  doing  well  just  now,  eh  ?  "  said  Gammon 
presently. 

"  Thanks ;  feel  remarkably  well.  A  touch  of  liver 
now  and  then,  but  nothing  serious.  By  the  by, 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?     Any  genealogy?  " 

Gammon  had  drained  his  tumbler  of  hot  whisky 
and  felt  better  for  it.  With  the  second  he  became 
more  communicative ;  he  asked  himself  why,  after 
all,  he  should  not  hang  on  to  the  clue  he  had  ob- 
tained from  Polly,  and  why  Greenacre  should  not 
be  made  use  of. 


156  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Know  anything  about  a  Gildersleeve?  "  he  asked 
with  a  laugh. 

His  companion  smiled  cheerfully,  looking  at  once 
more  interested. 

"  Gildersleeve  ?  Why,  yes,  there  was  a  boy  of 
that  name — no,  no  ;  it  was  Gildersleeves,  I  remem- 
ber.    Any  connexion  with  Quodling?" 

"  Can't  say.  The  people  I  mean  live  in  Stanhope 
Gardens.     I  don't  know  anything  about  them." 

"Like  to?" 

Gammon  admitted  that  the  name  had  a  signifi- 
cance for  him.     A  matter  of  curiosity — 

"  No  harm  in  a  bit  of  genealogy,"  said  Greenacre. 
"Always  interesting.  Stanhope  Gardens?  What 
number?  " 

He  urged  no  further  question,  and  gave  no  prom- 
ise, but  Gammon  felt  sure  this  time  that  infor- 
mation would  speedily  be  forthcoming.  Scarcely  a 
week  passed  before  Greenacre  wrote  to  him  with  a 
request  for  a  meeting  at  the  Bilboes.  As  usual,  the 
man  of  mystery  approached  his  subject  by  indirect 
routes.  Beginning  with  praise  of  London  as  the 
richest  ground  of  romance  discoverable  in  the  world, 
he  proceeded  to  tell  the  story  of  a  cats'-meat  woman 
who,  after  purveying  for  the  cats  at  a  West  End 
mansion  for  many  years  ;  discovered  one  day  that 
the  master  of  the  house  was  her  own  son. 

"  He  behaved  to  her  very  handsomely.  At  this 
moment  she  is  living  in  a  pleasant  little  villa  out 
Leatherhead  way ;  you  see  her  driving  herself  in  a 


AN   ALLY   IN    THE   QUEST  1^7 

little  donkey-carriage,  and  throwing  bits  of  meat  to 
pussy-cats  at  the  cottage  doors.  Touch  of  nature, 
that,  isn't  it  ?  By  the  by,  you  were  speaking  of  a 
family  named  Gildersleeve." 

He  added  this  absently,  looking  about  the  little 
room,  which  just  now  they  had  to  themselves. 

"  Know  anything  about  them  ?  "  asked  Gammon 
eyeing  him  curiously. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  say — ah,  yes,  to  be  sure,  the 
Gildersleeves.  Now  I  wonder.  Gammon, — forgive 
me,  I  can't  help  wondering, — why  this  family  in- 
terests you." 

"  Oh,  nothing — I  came  across  the  name — " 

"  Evidently,"  Greenacre's  tone  became  a  little 
more  positive.  "  I'm  sure  you  have  no  objection  to 
telling  me  how  and  where  you  came  across  it." 

Gammon  had  an  uncomfortable  sense  of  some 
thing  unfamiliar  in  his  friend.  Greenacrehad  never 
spoken  in  this  way  to  him  ;  it  sounded  rather  too 
imperative,  too  much  the  tone  of  a  superior. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  tell  you  that,"  he  said 
awkwardly. 

"  No?  Really?  I'm  sorry.  In  that  case  I  can't 
tell  you  anything  that  I  have  learnt.  Yet  I  fancy 
it  might  be  worth  your  while  to  exchange." 

"  Exchange?  " 

"  Your  information  for  mine,  you  know.  What  I 
have  is  substantial,  reliable.  I  think  you  can  trust 
m.e  in  matters  of  geneaology.  Come  now.  Am  I 
right  in  supposing  this  curiosity  of  yours  is  not  al- 


158  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

together  unconnected  with  your  interest  in  Francis 
Quodling,  the  silk  broker?  nothing  to  me,  Gam- 
mon ;  nothing,  I  assure  you.  Pure  love  of  genea- 
logical inquiry.  Never  made  a  penny  out  of  such 
things  in  my  life.  But  I  have  taken  a  little  trouble, 
etc.  As  a  matter  of  friendship — no  ?  Then  we'll 
drop  the  subject — By  the  by,  have  you  a  black-and- 
tan  to  dispose  of?  " 

He  passed  into  a  vein  so  chatty  and  so  amiable 
that  Gammon  began  to  repent  of  distrusting  him. 
Besides,  his  information  might  be  really  valuable 
and  could  not  easily  be  obtained  in  any  other  way. 

"  Look  here,  Greenacre,  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't 
tell  you.  The  fact  is,  a  man  I  used  to  know  has 
disappeared,  and  I  want  to  find  him.  He  was  seen 
at  the  theatre  with  a  lady  who  lives  at  that  house ; 
that's  the  long  and  short  of  it." 

"  Good.  Now  we're  getting  on  in  the  old  way. 
Age  of  the  man  ?  about  fifty,  eh  ?  And,  if  I  remem- 
ber, you  said  he  was  like  Quodling  in  the  face,— Fran- 
cis Quodling  ? — Just  so,  h'm  !  I  can  assure  you, 
then,  that  no  such  individual  lives  at  the  house  we're 
speaking  of." 

"  No,  but  perhaps — " 

"  One  moment.  The  Gildersleeves  are  a  young 
married  couple.     With  them  lives  an  elder  lady — " 

Greenacre  paused,  meditating. 

"  The  name  of  the  missing  man  ? "  he  added, 
gently. 

"  Fellow  called  Clover." 


AN   ALLY   IN   THE   QUEST  159 

"  Clover— Clover  }—Clo—?  " 

Greenacre's  first  repetition  of  the  name  was  me- 
chanical ;  the  next  sounded  a  note  of  confused  sur- 
prise ;  the  third  broke  short  in  a  very  singular  way 
just  as  if  his  eyes  had  suddenly  fallen  on  something 
which  startled  him  into  silence.  Yet  no  one  had 
entered  the  room  ;  no  face  had  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"  What's  up  ?  "  asked  Gammon. 

The  other  regained  his  self-possession  as  though 
he  had  for  a  moment  wandered  mentally  from  the 
subject  they  were  discussing. 

**  Forgive  me.  What  name  did  you  say  ?  Yes, 
yes;  Clover.  Odd  name.  Tell  me  something  about 
him.     Where  did  you  know  him  ?     What  was  he  ?  " 

Having  gone  so  far,  Gammon  saw  no  reason  for 
refusing  the  details  of  the  story.  With  the  pleasure 
that  every  man  feels  in  narrating  strange  circum- 
stances known  only  to  a  few,  he  told  all  he  could 
about  the  career  of  Mrs.  Clover's  husband.  Green- 
acre  listened  with  a  placidly-smiling  attention. 

"  Just  the  kind  of  thing  I  am  always  coming 
across,"  he  remarked.  "  Everyday  story  in  London. 
We  must  find  this  man.  Do  you  know  his  Chris- 
tian name?" 

"  Mrs.  Clover  called  him  Mark." 

"  Mark.  May  or  may  not  be  his  own,  of  course. 
And  now — if  you  permit  the  question — who  saw 
this  man  and  recognised  him  in  the  theatre?  " 

Gammon  gave  a  laugh.      Then,  fearing  that  he 


l6o  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

might  convey  a  wrong  impression,  he  answered  seri- 
ously that  it  was  a  niece  of  Mrs.  Clover,  a  young 
lady  with  whom  he  was  on  friendly  terms — nothing 
whatever  but  friendly  terms  ;  a  most  respectable 
young  lady ;  anxious,  naturally,  to  bring  Mrs.  Clo- 
ver and  her  husband  together  again,  but  discreet 
enough  to  have  kept  the  matter  quiet  as  yet.  And 
he  explained  how  it  came  about  that  this  young 
lady  knew  only  the  address  in  Stanhope  Gardens. 
After  reflecting  upon  that,  Greenacre  urged  that  it 
would  be  just  as  well  not  to  take  the  young  lady  in- 
to their  counsel  for  the  present ;  to  which  his  friend 
readily  assented.  And  so,  when  they  had  chatted  a 
little  longer,  the  man  of  mystery  rose  "  to  keep  an 
appointment."  Gammon  should  hear  from  him  in 
a  day  or  two. 

When  ten  days  had  gone  by  without  fulfilment 
of  this  promise,  Gammon  grew  uneasy.  He  could 
not  communicate  with  Greenacre,  having  no  idea 
where  the  man  lived,  or  where  he  was  to  be  heard 
of ;  an  inquiry  at  "  the  Bilboes  "  proved  that  he  was 
not  known  there.  One  evening  Gammon  went  to 
look  for  himself  at  the  house  in  Stanhope  Gardens  ; 
he  hung  about  the  place  for  half  an  hour,  but  saw 
nothing  of  interest  or  importance.  He  walked  once 
or  twice  along  Shaftesbury  Avenue,  but  did  not 
chance  to  meet  Polly,  and  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  beg  an  interview  with  her.  At  the  end  of 
a  fortnight,  Greenacre  wrote,  and  that  evening  they 
met  again  at  the  obscure  house  of  entertainment. 


AN   ALLY    IN   THE    QUEST  l6l 

"  It  is  not,  often,"  said  Greenacre,  in  a  despondent 
tone,  "  that  I  have  found  an  inquiry  so  difficult.  Of 
course  it  interests  me  all  the  more,  and  I  shall  go 
on  with  it,  but  1  must  freely  confess  that  I've  got 
nothing  yet — absolutely  nothing." 

Gammon  observed  him  vigilantly. 

"  Do  you  know  what  has  occurred  to  me  ?  "  pur- 
sued the  other,  with  a  half  melancholy  droop  of  the 
head.  "  I  really  begin  to  fear  that  the  young  lady, 
your  friend,  may  have  made  a  mistake." 

"  How  can  that  be,  when  he  met  her  twice  and 
talked  with  her  ?" 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  that,"  replied  Greenacre  as  if 
surprised. 

"  No,  I  didn't  mention  it.  I  thought  it  was 
enough  to  tell  you  she  spied  him  at  the  theatre." 

He  added  a  brief  account  of  what  had  happened 
between  Polly  and  her  uncle ;  Greenacre  listening 
as  if  this  threw  new  light  on  the  case. 

"  Then,  the  mistake  is  mine.  It's  more  interesting 
than  ever.  This  puts  me  on  my  mettle.  Gammon. 
Don't  lose  courage.  I  have  a  wonderful  scent 
in  this  kind  of  thing.  Above  all,  not  a  word  to 
anybody  —  you  understand  the  importance  of 
that  ?  " 

"  That's  all  right." 

"  I  have  a  theory— oh,  yes,  there's  a  theory.    With- 
out a  theory  nothing  can  be  done.     I  am  working, 
Gammon,    on    the    scientific    principle    of    induc- 
tion." 
II 


l62  THE    TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"Oh,  are  you  !" 

"  Strictly  ;  it  has  never  failed  me  yet — I  can't  stay 
now ;  appointment  at  10.30.  But  you  shall  hear 
from  me  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  say,"  inquired  Gammon,  "  what's  your  address 
now?" 

"Address?" — oh,  address  letters  to  this  place. 
They'll  be  all  right." 

Another  fortnight  passed.  It  was  now  early  in 
November  ;  the  weather  gloomy,  and  by  no  means 
favourable  to  evening  strolls.  Gammon  wanted 
much  to  see  both  Polly  and  Mrs.  Clover ;  he  had  all 
but  made  up  his  mind  to  write  to  both  of  them,  yet 
could  not  decide  on  the  proper  tone  in  either  case. 
Was  he  to  be  humble  to  Mrs.  Clover  ?  Should  he 
beg  pardon  of  Polly  ?  That  kind  of  thing  did  not 
come  easily  to  him. 

On  a  day  of  thin  yellow  fog  he  returned  about 
noon  from  seeing  to  a  piece  of  business  the  result 
of  which  he  had  to  report  at  once  to  Mr.  Quodling. 
He  entered  the  clerks'  ofifice  and  asked  whether 
"  the  governor  "  was  alone. 

"  No,  he  ain't,"  replied  a  friendly  young  man. 
"  He's  got  a  lord  with  him." 

"A  what?" 

"  A  Peer  of  the  Realm,  sir  !  I  had  the  honour  of 
taking  his  ludship's  card  in — Lord  Poll-parrot. 
Can't  say  I  ever  heard  of  him  before." 

"  What  d'you  mean?  See  here,  I'm  in  a  hurry; 
no  kid,  Simpson." 


AN   ALLY   IN   THE   QUEST  163 

"  Well,  it  might  be  Poll-parrot.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  it's  Lord  Polperro." 

Gammon  gazed  fixedly  at  the  young  man. 

"  Lord  Polperro  ? — By  jorrocks !  " 

"  Know  him,  Mr.  Gammon  ?  "  asked  another  of 
the  clerks. 

"  I  know  his  name.     All  right.     I'll  wait." 

Musing  on  the  remarkable  coincidence — which 
seemed  to  prove  beyond  doubt  that  there  still  ex- 
isted some  connexion  between  the  family  of  Quod- 
ling  and  the  titled  house  which  he  had  heard  of  from 
Mr  Greenacre — he  stood  in  the  entrance-passage,  and 
looked  out  for  five  minutes  through  the  glass  door 
at  the  fog-dimmed  traffic  of  Norton  Folgate.  Then 
a  step  sounded  behind  him.  He  moved  aside  and 
saw  a  man  in  a  heavy  fur-lined  overcoat,  with  a  muf- 
fler loose  about  his  neck  ;  a  thin,  unhealthy-looking 
man,  with  sharp  eyes,  rather  blood-shot,  which 
turned  timidly  this  way  and  that,  and  a  high 
bridged  nose.  As  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
face,  Gammon  drew  himself  up,  every  muscle  strung. 
The  man  observed  him  ;  looked  again,  more  fur- 
tively ;  stepped  past  to  the  door. 

It  took  Gammon  but  a  moment  to  dart  into  the 
clerks'  room,  and  ascertain  that  the  person  who  had 
just  gone  out  was  Lord  Polperro.  A  moment  more 
and  he  was  out  in  the  street.  The  heavy-coated 
and  muflflered  man  was  walking  quickly  southward; 
he  waved  his  umbrella  to  a  passing  cab,  which,  how- 
ever, did  not  pull  up.     Gammon  followed  for  thirty 


1 64  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

yards.     Again  the  man  hailed  a  cab,  and  this  time 
successfully.     Just  as  he  was  about  to  step  into  the 
vehicle,  Gammon  stood  beside  him. 
"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Clover?" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

POLLY   SHOWS   WEAKNESS. 

It  was  spoken  with  quiet  confidence.  Gammon 
smiled  as  he  looked  steadily  into  the  pale,  thin  face, 
which  at  once  grew  mottled  with  a  disturbance  of 
the  blood. 

"  You  are  making  a  mistake,  sir,"  replied  an  in- 
distinct voice,  with  an  effort  at  dignity. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  a  bit  of  it.  Not  now  I've  heard 
you  speak,  Mr.  Clover," 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  sir,"  sounded  more 
clearly,  the  pallid  visage  now  a  muddy  red,  and  the 
eyes  moist.  "  That  is  not  my  name.  Be  so  good 
as  to  go  your  way." 

"  Certainly.  I  just  wanted  to  make  sure,  that's 
all.     No  fuss.     Good-morning,  Mr.  Clover." 

Gammon  drew  back.  He  heard  the  order,  "  Char- 
ing Cross,"  and  the  cab  drove  away. 

After  a  moment  or  two  of  irresolution,  Gammon 

walked  hurriedly  to  the  nearest  public-house,  where 

'^        he   called  for  a  glass  of  bitters  and  the  directory. 

With  the  former  he  slaked  a  decided  dryness  of  the 

throat ;  the  latter  he  searched  eagerly  in  the  section 

i6s 


1 66  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  Court "  There  it  was !  "  Polperro,  Lord.  i6, 
Lowndes  Mansions,  Sloane  Street.  S.  W.  Junior 
Ramblers's  Club.     Trefoyle,  Liskeard,  Cornwall." 

By  jorrocks ! 

With  thoughts  turned  to  anything  but  the  oil 
and  colour  business,  he  returned  to  Quodlings',  and 
had  his  interview  with  the  head  of  the  firm.  Mr. 
Quodling  senior  was  a  gruff,  heavy-featured  man, 
decidedly  of  coarse  fibre ;  when  moved,  he  swore 
with  gusto,  and  it  did  not  take  much  to  put  him 
out.  At  present  he  was  in  an  irritable  mood,  and — 
very  unlike  his  habit — gave  scant  attention  to  the 
affair  of  which  Gammon  spoke.  It  would  not  have 
improved  his  temper  had  he  known  that  the  town 
traveller  was  amusing  himself  with  the  reflection 
that  there  was  no  trace  of  personal  resemblance  be- 
tween him  and  his  brother  Francis  ;  who,  on  the 
other  hand,  bore  a  very  strong  likeness  indeed  to 
— Lord  Polperro. 

As  soon  as  he  could  get  away,  Gammon  despatched 
a  telegram.  It  was  to  Miss  Sparkes,  whom  he  re- 
quested to  meet  him  at  the  theatre  door  that  night, 
when  she  left.  "  Something  very  important  to  tell 
you." 

This  was  done  on  a  tell-tale  impulse  ;  it  showed 
in  what  direction  his  mind  most  readily  turned  just 
now.  Thinking  it  over  in  the  hours  that  followed, 
he  doubted  whether,  after  all,  he  would  tell  Polly 
exactly  what  had  happened  ;  she  could  be  useful  to 
him  in  the  way  he  intended,  without  knowing  more 


POLLY   SHOWS   WEAKNESS.  167 

than  she  had  discovered  for  herself.  Doubt  as  to 
the  identity  of  Lord  Polperro  with  Mrs.  Clover's 
husband  he  had  none  whatever  ;  face,  voice,  trick  of 
lips  and  eyebrows  made  mistake  an  impossibility ; 
but  he  must  bring  the  man  into  a  position  where 
there  would  be  no  choice  but  to  reveal  himself,  and, 
so  far  as  Gammon  knew,  no  one  but  Polly  could 
help  to  that  end.  With  Mrs.  Clover  he  would  com- 
municate when  the  facts  of  the  strange  story  were 
made  plain  ;  not  yet  awhile.  And  as  for  Greenacre, 
why,  it  was  splendid  to  have  got  beforehand  with 
that  keen-scented  fellow.  The  promise  to  keep 
silence  held  good  only  whilst  their  search  might  be 
hindered  by  some  one's  indiscretion  ;  now  that  the 
search  was  over,  he  felt  himself  free  to  act  as  he 
chose. 

But  what  an  astounding  discovery !  Again  and 
again,  by  jorrocks ! 

He  was  near  the  theatre  long  before  his  time. 
He  had  never  waited  so  long  or  so  impatiently  for 
any  one  since  the  days  of  his  first  sweethearting, 
twenty  and  odd  years  ago.  When  Polly  at  length 
came  out,  she  met  him  with  a  shyness  and  awkward- 
ness which  he  fancied  he  perfectly  understood. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  where  we  can  have  a 
quiet  talk,"  he  said  at  once,  in  a  tone  of  eager  cordial- 
ity.    "  It's  too  wet  for  walking,  we'll  have  a  cab." 

Polly  gazed  at  him  in  unfeigned  surprise,  and 
asked  where  they  were  to  go.  Not  far — he  replied  ; 
here  was  a  cab ;  in  with  her  !     And  before  she  could 


1 68  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

decide  upon  resistance,  Polly  was  seated  by  him. 
Gammon  then  explained  that  he  had  the  use  of  a 
sitting-room  at  a  coffee  tavern  ;  they  would  be  there 
in  a  minute  or  two.  There  was  good  news  for  her ; 
news  that  couldn't  be  told  in  the  street  or  in  a 
crowded  restaurant. 

"  Did  you  get  my  letter  ?  "  she  asked,  shrinking  as 
far  from  him  as  space  allowed. 

"Letter?     When?" 

"  I  posted  it  this  morning,"  Polly  answered  in  a 
timidly  sullen  voice. 

He  had  not  been  home  since  breakfast-time. 
She  had  written  to  him?  Now,  wasn't  that  a  queer 
thing  !  All  yesterday  he  too  had  thought  of  writ- 
ing, and  to-day  would  have  done  so  in  any  case. 
Never  mind  ;  the  letter  would  be  waiting  for  him. 
Was  it  nice  ?  Was  it  sweet  and  amiable,  like  her- 
self?    Ha!  ha!     Ho!  ho! 

As  he  laughed,  the  cab  drew  up  with  a  jerk. 
Polly  saw  that  she  was  in  a  familiar  thoroughfare, 
and  in  front  of  a  respectable  establishment,  but  it 
was  not  without  a  little  distrust  that  she  entered  by 
the  private  door  and  went  up-stairs.  A  large  room, 
so  ugly  and  uncomfortable  that  it  helped  to  reassure 
her,  was  quickly  lighted.  Gammon  requested  the 
woman  in  attendance  to  bring  pen,  ink,  and  paper, 
whereat  Polly  again  stared  her  surprise. 

"  Come  and  sit  over  here,"  said  Gammon,  "  away 
from  the  door.  Now  make  yourself  comfortable, 
old  girl.     Sure  you  won't  have  anything?" 


POLLY   SHOWS  WEAKNESS.  169 

The  writing  materials  were  brought ;  the  door 
was  closed. 

"  Now  we're  all  right.  A  long  time  since  we  saw 
each  other,  Polly.  Have  you  heard  anything? 
Any  more  about  Mr.  C  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  look  here  now,  I  want  you  to  write  to 
him.  You  didn't  believe  me  when  I  said  I  knew. 
Well,  you'll  believe  me  now.  I  want  you  to  write 
to  him,  and  to  ask  him  to  meet  you  here.  If  he 
won't  come,  I  know  what  to  do  next.  But  you 
just  write  a  few  lines,  you  know  how.  You  want  to 
see  him,  at  this  coffee  tavern,  at  five  o'clock  to- 
morrow ;  he's  to  come  to  the  private  door,  and  ask 
for  Miss— let's  say  Miss  Ellis— that'll  do.  I  shall 
be  here,  but  not  in  the  room  at  first ;  I'll  come  in 
when  you've  had  a  little  talk.  I  don't  think  he'll 
refuse  to  come,  when  he  sees  you've  got  his  address." 

"What  is  the  address?" 

"  Patience,  my  dear;  wait  till  you've  written  the 
letter.  I'll  walk  up  and  down  the  room  whilst  you 
do  it." 

He  began  pacing,  but  Polly  made  no  movement 
towards  the  table.  She  was  strangely  sullen,  or 
perhaps  depressed ;  not  at  all  like  herself,  even 
when  in  anger.  She  cast  glances  at  her  companion, 
and  seemed  desirous  of  saying  something,  of  making 
some  protest ;  but  her  tongue  failed  her. 

"  No  hurry,"  Gammon  remarked,  after  humming 
throughatune.     **  Thinkit  out.     Only  aline  or  two." 


1 70  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Are  you  telling  me  the  truth  about  my  letter  ?  " 
she  suddenly  asked.     "  You  haven't  read  it  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  I  haven't.  That's  a  treat  for  when 
I  get  home." 

Still  she  delayed,  but  before  Gammon  had  taken 
many  more  steps,  she  was  seated  at  the  table,  and 
biting  the  end  of  the  penholder. 

"You'll  have  to  tell  me  what  to  say." 

"  All  right.     Take  the  words  down." 

He  dictated,  with  all  possible  brevity.  The  letter 
was  folded  and  enclosed.  Only  in  the  last  few 
minutes  had  Gammon  quite  decided  to  share  his 
knowledge  with  Polly.  As  she  bent  her  head  and 
wrote,  something  in  the  attitude — perhaps  a  sugges- 
tion of  domesticity — appealed  to  his  emotions, 
which  were  ready  for  such  a  juncture  as  this.  After 
all,  there  were  not  many  girls  prettier  than  Polly, 
or  with  more  of  the  attractiveness  of  their  sex.  He 
looked,  looked — till  he  could  not  turn  away. 

"  Now  then  for  the  address.  I'll  write  it  on  this 
piece  of  paper,  and  you  shall  copy  it." 

Polly  watched  him,  puzzled  by  the  nervous  grin 
on  his  face.  She  took  the  paper,  on  which  he  had 
written,  as  legibly  as  he  could  : 

"Lord  Polperro, 

i6,  Lowndes  Mansions, 
Sloane  Street, 
S.  W. 

and,  having  read  it,  she  stared  at  him. 
"  What  d'you  mean?" 


POLLY  SHOWS  WEAKNESS  171 

"  That's  the  address." 

"  Are  you  making  a  fool  of  me  ?  "  Polly  exclaimed, 
angry  suspicion  flashing  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  tell  you,  that's  your  uncle's  address.  Now  be 
careful,  Polly !     I  won't  stand  it  a  second  time." 

He  was  only  half  joking.  Excitement  tingled  in 
him,  the  kind  of  excitement  which  might  lead  either 
to  rage  or  caresses.  He  swayed  now  on  one  foot, 
now  on  the  other,  as  if  preparing  for  a  dance,  and 
his  fists  were  clenched  upon  his  hips. 

"  You  mean  to  say  that's  his  real  name  ?  "  cried 
Polly,  she  too  quivering  and  reddening. 

"  I  do. — Now  mind,  Polly  !  Mind  what  you  say, 
my  girl !  I  won't  stand  it  a  second  time." 

"  Don't  go  on  like  a  ijiot !  "  exclaimed  the  girl, 
starting  up  from  her  chair.  "  Of  course  I'll  believe 
it,  if  you  tell  me  you're  not  kidding.  And  you  mean 
to  say  he's  a  Lord  ?  " 

"  See  for  yourself." 

"  And  his  name  ain't  Clover  at  all  ?  Then  what's 
my  awnt's  name  ?  " 

"Why,  Lady  Polperro,  of  course!  And  Minnie 
is — well,  I  don't  exactly  know, — Lady  Minnie  Pol- 
perro, I  suppose.  And  you — no,  I  don't  think  it 
gives  you  a  title ;  but  you  see  you  are  the  niece  of 
Lord  Polperro.  Think  of  that,  Polly  !  You've  got 
a  Lord  for  your  uncle  !     A  Peer  of  the  Realm  !  " 

He  came  nearer  and  nearer  as  he  spoke,  his  eyes 
distended  with  wild  merriment,  his  arms  swing, 
ing. 


172  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"And  it's  me  that  found  it  out,  Polly!  What 
have  you  got  to  say  for  it?  Eh,  old  girl?  What 
have  you  got  to  say  ?  " 

Polly  uttered  a  scream  of  laughter,  and  threw  her- 
self forward.  Gammon's  arms  were  ready;  they 
clasped  her  and  hugged  her,  she  not  dreaming  of 
resistance — anything  but  that.  Only  when  her  face 
was  very  red,  and  her  hat  all  but  off,  and  her  hair 
beginning  to  come  loose,  did  she  gently  put  him 
away. 

"  That'll  do— that's  enough—" 

"You  mean  it,  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Gammon,  ten- 
derly enfolding  her  waist. 

"  I  s'pose  so — it  looks  like  it.  That'll  do  ;  let  me 
get  my  breath.     What  a  silly  you  are  !  " 

"  And  were  you  fond  of  me  all  the  time,  Polly  ?  " 
he  whispered  at  her  ear,  as  she  sat  down. 

"I  dessay — how  do  I  know?  It's  quite  certain 
you  wasn't  fond  of  me,  or  you'd  never  have  gone  off 
like  you  did  that  Sunday." 

"  Why,  I've  been  fond  of  you  for  no  end  of  a  time ! 
Haven't  I  showed  it  in  lots  of  ways?  You  must 
have  known,  and  you  did  know." 

"  When  you  smashed  my  door  in,  and  fought  me  ?  " 
asked  Polly,  with  a  shamefaced  laugh. 

"You  don't  think  I'd  have  taken  all  that  trouble, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  pleasure  of  carrying  you 
down-stairs  ?  " 

"  Go  along  !  " 

"  But  there  wasn't  much  love  about  you,  Polly. 


POLLY  SHOWS   WEAKNESS  1 73 

You  hit  jolly  hard,  old  girl — and  you  kicked,  and  you 
scratched — why,  I've  bruises  yet !  " 

"  Serve  you  right ! — Do  let  me  put  my  'air  and  my 
'at  straight." 

"  I  say  Polly — "  and  he  whispered  something. 

"  I  s'pose  so — some  day,"  was  her  answer,  with 
head  bent  over  the  hat  she  was  smoothing  into 
shape. 

"  But  won't  you  think  yourself  too  good  for  me? 
Remember,  you've  got  a  Lord  for  your  uncle." 

It  returned  upon  both  with  the  freshness  of  sur- 
prise ;  even  Polly  had  quite  lost  sight  of  the  start- 
ling fact  during  the  last  few  minutes.  They  looked 
at  the  unaddressed  letter ;  they  gazed  into  each 
other's  faces. 

"  You  haven't  gone  and  made  a  mistake  ?  "  asked 
Polly,  in  an  awed  undertone. 

"  There  now  !  You  didn't  think.  You're  begin- 
ning to  be  sorry." 

"No,  I'm  not." 

"  You  are,  I  can  see  it." 

"  Oh,  all  right !  have  it  your  own  way  !  I  thought 
you  wouldn't  be  so  sweet-tempered  very  long. 
You're  all  alike,  you  men." 

"  Why,  it's  you  that  can't  keep  your  temper !  " 
shouted  Gammon.  "  I  only  wanted  to  hear  you  say 
it  wouldn't  make  any  difference,  happen  what 
might." 

"And  didn't  I  say  it  wouldn't  ?  "  shrilled  Polly. 
"  What  more  can  I  say  ?  " 


174  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

Strangely  enough,  a  real  tear  had  started  into  her 
eye.  Gammon  saw  it  and  was  at  once  remorseful. 
He  humbled  himself  before  her  ;  he  declared  himself 
a  beast  and  a  brute.  Polly  was  a  darling ;  far  too 
good  for  him,  too  sweet  and  gentle  and  lovely.  He 
ought  to  think  himself  the  happiest  man  living,  by 
jorrocks,  if  he  oughtn't  !  Just  one  more  !  Why,  he 
liked  a  girl  to  have  spirits  !  He  wouldn't  give  tup- 
pence farthing  for  fifty  girls  that  couldn't  speak  up 
for  themselves.  And  if  she  was  the  niece  of  a  Lord, 
why,  she  deserved  it,  and  a  good  deal  more.  She 
ought  to  be  Lady  Polly,  straight  away.  And  hanged 
if  he  wouldn't  call  her  so. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  get  this  letter  addressed?" 
Polly  asked,  very  amiable  again. 

"Yes;  it's  getting  late  I'm  afraid." 

Polly  drew  up  the  table,  but  her  hand  was  so  un- 
steady that  it  cost  her  much  trouble  to  manage  the 
pen. 

"  I've  wrote  it  awful  bad.     Does  it  matter  ?  " 

"  Bad  ?  Why,  it's  beautifully  written,  Polly- 
Lady  Polly,  I  mean.     I've  got  a  stamp." 

She  stuck  it  on  to  the  envelope,  with  an  angle 
upwards ;  and  Gammon  declared  that  it  was 
beautifully  done  ;  he  never  knew  any  one  stamp 
a  letter  so  nicely.  As  she  gazed  at  the  com- 
pleted missive,  Polly  had  a  sudden  thought  which 
made  a  change  in  her  countenance.  She  looked 
round. 

"What  is  it?" 


POLLY   SHOWS   WEAKNESS  1 75 

"  He  hasn't  got  another  wife,  has  he  ?  " 

"  Not  likely,"  answered  Gammon.  "  If  so,  he's 
committed  bigamy,  and  so  much  the  worse  for  him. 
Your  aunt  must  have  been  his  first — it  was  so  long 
ago." 

"Couldn't  you  find  out?  Isn't  there  a  book  as 
gives  all  about  Lords  and  their  families?  I've 
heard  so." 

"  I  believe  there  is,"  replied  the  other,  thought 
fully.  "  I'll  get  a  look  at  it  somewhere.  He's  scamp 
enough  for  anything,  I've  no  doubt.  He  comes 
of  a  bad  lot,  Polly.  There's  all  sorts  of  queer 
stories  about  his  father — at  least,  I  suppose  it  was 
his  father." 

"  Tell  me  some,"  said  Polly,  with  eagerness. 

"  Oh,  I  will  some  day.  But  now  I  come  to  think 
of  it,  I  don't  know  when  he  became  Lord  Polperro. 
He  couldn't,  of  course,  till  the  death  of  his  father. 
Most  likely  the  old  man  was  alive  when  he  married 
your  aunt.  It's  easy  to  understand  now,  why  he's 
led  such  a  queer  life,  isn't  it?  I  shouldn't  a  bit 
wonder  if  he  went  away  the  second  time  because 
his  father  had  died.  I'll  find  out  about  it.  Would 
you  believe,  when  I  met  him  in  the  street  and  spoke 
to  him,  he  pretended  he'd  never  heard  such  a  name 
as  Clover  ?  " 

"  You  met  him,  did  you  ?     When?" 

"  Oh— I'll  tell  you  all  about  that  afterwards.  It's 
getting  late.  We  shall  have  lots  of  talk.  You'll 
let  me   take  you  home?    We'll  have  a  cab,  shall 


176  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

we?      Lady  Pollys  don't    walk  about   the    streets 
on  a  wet  night." 

She  stood  in  thought. 
"  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me." 
"Right  you  are!     Tell  me,  and  I'll  do  it  like  a 
shot,  see  if  I  don't." 

His  arm  again  encircled  her,  and  this  time  Polly 
did  not  talk  of  her  'at  or  her  'air.     Indeed,  she  bent 
her  head,  half  hiding  her  face  against  him. 
"  You  know  that  letter  I  sent  you — " 
"  What's  in  it?     Something  nicey-picey  ?" 
"  I  want  you  to  let  me  go  to  the  'ouse  with  you 
— just  to  the  door — and  I  want  you  to  give  me  that 
letter  back — just  as  it  is — without  opening  it.     You 
will,  won't  you,  deary  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  will,  if  you  really  mean  it." 
"I  do  ;  it  was  a  narsty  letter.     I  couldn't  bear  to 
have  you  read  it  now." 

Gammon  had  no  difificulty  in  imagining  the  kind 
of  epistle  which  Polly  would  desire  suppressed  ; 
yet,  for  some  obscure  reason,  he  would  rather  have 
read  it.  But  his  promise  was  given.  Polly,  in  turn, 
promised  to  write  another  letter  for  him  as  soon  as 
possible. 

So  they  drove  in  a  hansom,  through  a  night 
which  washed  the  fog  away,  to  Kennington  Road, 
and,  whilst  Polly  kept  her  place  in  the  vehicle. 
Gammon  ran  up-stairs.  There  lay  the  letter,  on  his 
dressing-table.  He  hastened  down  with  it,  and 
before  handing  it  to  its  writer,  kissed  the  envelope. 


POLLY   SHOWS   WEAKNESS  1 77 

"  Go  along !  "  exclaimed  Polly,  in  high  good- 
humour,  as  she  reached  out  with  eager  fingers. 

Late  as  it  was,  he  accompanied  her  to  Shaftes- 
bury Avenue,  and  they  parted  tenderly,  after  having 
come  to  an  agreement  about  the  next  evening. 

12 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

LORD   POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE 

By  discreet  inquiry,  Mr.  Gammon  procured  an 
introduction  to  "  Debrett,"  who  supplied  him  with 
a  great  deal  of  information.  In  the  first  place,  he 
learned  that  the  present  Lord  Polperro,  fourth  of  that 
title,  was  not  the  son  but  the  brother  of  the  Lord 
Polperro  preceding  him  ;  both  being  offspring,  it 
was  plain,  of  the  peer  whose  will  occasioned  a  law- 
suit some  forty  years  ago.  Granted  the  truth  of 
scandalous  rumour,  which  had  such  remarkable  sup- 
ports in  facial  characteristics,  the  present  bearer  of 
the  title  would  be  in  fact  half-brother  to  Francis 
Quodling,  Again,  it  was  discoverable  that  the  Lord 
Polperro  of  to-day  succeeded  to  the  barony  in  the 
very  year  of  Mrs.  Clover's  husband's  second  disap- 
pearance. 

"  Just  what  I  said,"  was  Gammon's  mental  com- 
ment as  he  thumped  the  aristocratic  pages. 

Now  for  the  women.  To  begin  with.  Lord  Pol- 
perro was  set  down  a  bachelor — ha !  ha  !  Then,  he 
had    one    sister.   Miss  Adela  Trefoyle,   older   than 

himself ;  and  that  might  very  well  be  the  lady  who 
178 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   1 79 

was  seen  beside  him  at  the  theatre.  Then  again, 
though  his  elder  brother's  male  children  had  died, 
there  was  living  a  daughter,  by  name  Adeline,  re- 
cently wedded  to — by  jorrocks  ! — Lucian  Gilder- 
sleeve,  Esquire.  Why  here  was  "  the  whole  boiling 
of  'em !  " 

Mr.  Gammon  eagerly  jotted  down  the  particulars 
in  his  note-book,  and  swallowed  the  whisky  at  his 
side  with  gusto.  Not  once,  however,  had  he  asked 
himself  why  this  man  of  guiles  and  freaks  chose  to 
mask  under  the  name  of  Clover ;  an  omission  to  be 
accounted  for  not  by  any  lack  of  wit  but  by  mere 
educational  defect.  He  could  not  have  been  further 
from  suspecting  that  his  utterance  of  the  name 
Clover  had  given  his  genealogical  friend  a  most  im- 
portant clue,  and  a  long  start  in  the  search  for  the 
missing  man. 

Impatiently  he  awaited  the  early  nightfall  of  the 
morrow.  Business  had  to  be  attended  to  as  usual, 
but  he  went  about  with  a  bearing  of  extraordinary 
animation  ;  now  laughing  to  himself,  now  snapping 
his  fingers,  now  (when  he  chanced  to  be  out  of 
people's  sight)  twirling  round  on  one  leg.  Either 
of  yesterday's  events  would  have  sufficed  to  ex- 
hilarate him  ;  together,  they  whipped  his  blood  and 
frothed  his  fancy.  He  had  found  Clover — who  was  a 
lord  !  He  had  won  the  love  of  Polly  Sparkes — who 
was  the  finest  girl  living  !  Did  ever  the  bagman 
of  an  oil  and  colour  firm  speed  about  his  duties  with 
such  springs  of  excitement  bubbling  within  him? 


l8o  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

And  Mrs.  Clover  ?  Ought  she  not  to  be  told  at 
once  ?  Had  he  any  right  to  keep  to  himself  such 
a  discovery  as  this  ?  He  knew,  by  police-court 
precedent,  that  a  false  name  in  marriage  did  not  in- 
validate the  contract.  Beyond  shadow  of  doubt, 
Mrs  Clover  was  Lady  Polperro.  And  Minnie — why 
suppose  Minnie  had  favoured  his  suit ;  he  would 
have  been  son-in-law  of  a  peer !  As  it  was,  whom 
might  not  the  girl  marry  !  She  would  pass  from 
the  neighbourhood  of  Battersea  Park  Road  to  a 
house  in  May  Fair  or  Belgravia  ;  from  Doulton's 
and  the  china-shop  to  unimaginable  heights  of  social 
dignity.  And  who  more  fit  for  the  new  sphere  ? 
Mr  Gammon  sighed — but  in  a  moment  remembered 
Polly,  and  snapped  his  fingers. 

A  little  before  five  o'clock  he  was  hovering  within 
sight  of  the  coffee  tavern,  which  already  threw 
radiance  into  the  murky  and  muddy  street.  In  a 
minute  or  two  he  saw  Polly,  and  exchanged  a  quick 
word  with  her. 

**  Up  you  go  !  You'll  find  all  ready.  If  he  comes 
I  shall  see  him,  and  I'll  look  in  when  you've  had  a 
little  talk." 

Polly  disappeared,  and  Mr.  Gammon  again  hovered. 
But  who  was  this  approaching  ?  Of  all  unwelcome 
people  at  this  moment — hanged  if  it  wasn't  Green- 
acre  !  What  did  the  fellow  want  here  ?  He  was 
staring  about  him,  as  if  to  make  sure  of  an  address. 
Worse  than  that,  he  stepped  up  to  the  private  door 
of  the  coffee  tavern,  and  rang  the  bell. 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   l8l 

Shrinking  aside  into  darkness,  Gammon  felt  a 
shiver  of  unaccountable  apprehension,  which  was 
qnickly  followed  by  a  thrill  of  angry  annoyance. 
What  did  this  mean  ?  The  door  had'opened  ;  Green- 
acre  was  admitted.  What  the  devil  did  this  mean  ? 
If  it  wasn't  enough  to  make  a  fellow  want  to  wring 
another  fellow's  neck ! 

He  waited  thirty  seconds,  thinking  it  was  five 
minutes ;  then  went  to  the  door,  rang,  and  en- 
tered. 

"  Who  came  in  just  now,  miss?  " 

"  The  gentleman  for  the  young  lady,  sir." 

"  By  jorrocks  !  " 

Gammon  mounted  the  stairs  at  break-neck  speed, 
and  burst  into  the  private  sitting-room.  There  stood 
Polly,  with  her  head  up,  looking  pert  indignation 
and  surprise  ;  and  before  her  stood  Greenacre,  dis- 
coursing in  his  politest  tone. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  Gammon, 
breathlessly.     "  What  are  you  up  to,  eh  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Gammon,  how  do  you  do  ?  I'm  glad  you've 
dropped  in.  Let  us  sit  down,  and  have  a  quiet 
talk." 

The  man  of  mystery  was  very  well  dressed,  very 
cool,  more  than  equal  to  the  situation.  He  took 
for  granted  the  perfect  friendliness  of  both  Polly  and 
Gammon  ;  smiled  from  one  to  the  other ;  and,  as 
he  seated  himself,  drew  out  a  cigarette  case. 

*'  I'm  sure  Miss  Sparkes  won't  mind — I  have 
already  apologised,  Gammon,  for  the  necessity  of 


l82  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

introducing  myself.  You,  I  am  sure,  will  forgive 
me,  when  you  learn  the  position  of  affairs.  I'm  so 
glad  you  happened  to  drop  in." 

Declining  a  cigarette.  Gammon  stared  about  him 
in  angry  confusion.  He  had  no  words  ready.  Green- 
acre's  sang-froid,  through  it  irritated  him  excessively, 
shamed  him  into  quiet  behaviour. 

"  When  you  entered,  Gammon,  I  was  just  explain- 
ing to  Miss  Sparkes  that  I  am  here  on  behalf  of  her 
uncle,  Lord  Polperro." 

"Oh,  you  are?  And  how  do  you  come  to  know 
him?" 

"  Singular  accident.  The  kind  of  thing  that  is 
constantly  happening  in  London.  Lord  Polperro 
is  living  next  door  to  an  old  friend  of  mine — a  man 
I  haven't  seen  for  some  seven  or  eight  years,  till 
the  other  day.  I  happened  to  hear  of  my  friend's 
address,  called  upon  him,  and  there  met  his  lord- 
ship. Now  wasn't  it  a  strange  thing.  Gammon  ? 
Just  when  you  and  I  were  so  interested  in  a  certain 
puzzle — a  delightful  bit  of  genealogy.  Lord  Pol- 
perro and  I  quite  took  to  each  other.  He  seemed 
to  like  my  chat  and — in  fact  we  have  been  seeing  a 
good  deal  of  each  other  for  a  week  or  two." 

"  You  kept  this  to  yourself,  Greenacre." 

"  For  a  sufficient  reason — anything  but  a  selfish 
one.  You,  I  may  remark,  also  made  a  discovery 
and  kept  it  to  yourself." 

*'  It  was  my  own  business." 

"  Certainly.     Don't  dream  that  I  find  fault  with 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   1 83 

you,  my  dear  fellow.  It  was  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world.  Now  let  me  explain.  I  grieve  to  tell 
you  that  Lord  Polperro  is  in  very  poor  health.  To 
be  explicit,  he  is  suffering  from  a  complication  of 
serious  disorders,  among  them  disease  of  the  heart." 
He  paused,  to  let  his  announcement  have  its  full 
effect.  "  You  will  understand  why  I  am  here  to  rep- 
resent him.  Lord  Polperro  dare  not,  simply  dare 
not,  expose  himself  to  an  agitating  interview  ;  it 
might — it  probably  would — cost  him  his  life.  Miss 
Sparkes,  I  am  sure  you  would  not  like  to  see  your 
noble  relative  fall  lifeless  at  your  feet  ?  " 

Polly  looked  at  Gammon,  who,  in  spite  of  wrath, 
could  not  help  smiling. 

"  He  didn't  do  it  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  Green- 
acre." 

"  He  did  not  ;  but  I  very  greatly  fear  that  those 
meetings — of  course  I  have  heard  of  them — helped 
to  bring  about  the  crisis  under  which  he  is  now 
suffering.  As  also  did  a  certain  other  meeting 
which  you  will- recollect,  Gammon.  Pray  tell  me; 
did  Lord  Polperro  seem  to  you  in  robust  health?" 

"  Can't  say  he  did.  Looked  jolly  seedy." 
"  Precisely.  Acting  on  my  advice  he  has  left 
town  for  a  few  days.  I  shall  join  him  to-morrow, 
and  do  my  best  to  keep  up  his  spirits.  You  will 
now  see  the  necessity  for  using  great  caution,  great 
consideration,  in  this  strange  affair.  We  can  be 
quite  frank  with  each  other,  Gammon,  and  of  course 
we  have  no  secrets  from  my  new  and  valued  friend 


1^4  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

^f  she  will  let  me  call  her  so — Miss  Polly  Sparkes. 
One  has  but  to  look  at  Miss  Sparkes  to  see  the 
sweetness  and  thoughtfulness  of  her  disposition. 
Come,  now,  we  are  going  to  make  a  little  plot  to- 
gether, to  act  for  the  best.  I  am  sure  we  do  not  wish 
Lord  Pelperro's  death.  I  am  sure  you  do  not,  Miss 
Sparkes.  * 

Polly  again  looked  at  Gammon  and  muttered  that 
of  course  she  didn't.  Gammon  grinned.  Feeling 
sure  of  his  power  to  act  independently,  if  need  were, 
he  began  to  see  the  jocose  side  of  things. 

"  One  question  I  should  like  to  ask,"  continued 
Greenacre,  lighting  a  second  cigarette.  "  Has  Mrs. 
Clover — as  we  will  continue  to  call  her,  with  an  im- 
plied apology — been  informed  yet  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  told  her,"  said  Gammon  frankly. 

"And  I'm  sure  /haven't,"  added  Polly,  who  had 
begun  to  observe  Mr.  Greenacre  with  a  less  hostile 
eye,  and  was  recovering  her  native  vivacity. 

Greenacre  looked  satisfied. 

"Then  I  think  you  have  acted  very  wisely  indeed, 
— as  one  might  have  expected  from  Miss  Sparkes. 
I  don't  mean  I  shouldn't  have  expected  it  from  you 
too,  Gammon ;  but  you  and  I  are  not  on  ceremony, 
old  man.  Now  let  me  have  your  attention.  We 
begin  by  admitting  that  Lord  Polperro  has  put 
himself  in  a  very  painful  position.  Painful,  let  me 
tell  you,  in  every  sense.  Lord  Polperro  desires 
nothing  so  much — nothing  so  much — as  to  be  re- 
united to  his  family.     He  longs  for  the  society  of 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   1 8$ 

his  wife  and  daughter.  What  more  natural  in  a 
man  who  feels  that'his  days  are  numbered  I  Lord  Pol- 
perro  bitterly  laments  the  follies  of  his  life ;  which 
are  explained,  Gammon,  as  you  and  I  know,  by  the 
character  he  inherited.  We  know  the  peculiarities 
of  the  Trefoyle  family.  Some  of  them  I  must  not 
refer  to  in  the  presence  of  a  young  lady  such  as 
Miss  Sparkes."  Polly  looked  at  her  toes  and 
smirked.  "  But  Lord  Polperro's  chief  fault  seems 
to  have  been  an  insuperable  restlessness  which 
early  took  the  form  of  a  revolt  against  the  habits 
and  prejudicies  of  aristocratic  life.  Knowing  so 
much  of  that  life  myself,  I  must  say  that  I  under- 
stand him  ,  that  to  a  certain  extent  I  sympathise 
with  him.  When  a  youth  he  desired  the  Hberty  of 
a  plebeian  station,  and  sought  it  under  disguises. 
You  must  remember  that  at  that  time,  he  had  very 
little  prospect  of  ever  succeeding  to  the  title.  Let 
me  give  you  a  little  genealogy. 

"  Needn't  trouble,"  put  in  Gammon.  "  I  know  it 
all.  Got  it  out  of  a  book.  I'll  tell  you  afterwards, 
Polly." 

"  Ah,  got  it  out  of  a  book  ?  Why,  you  are  be- 
coming quite  a  genealogist,  Gammon.  I  need  only 
say,  then,  that  he  did  not  give  a  thought  to  the  title. 
He  chose  to  earn  his  own  bread,  and  live  his  own 
life,  like  ordinary  mortals.  He  took  the  name  of 
Clover.     Of  course  you  see  why." 

"  Hanged  if  I  do,"  said  Gammon. 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  are  not  clover  and  trefoil 


l86  THE   TOWN  TRAVELLER 

the  same  things?  Don't  you  see?  Trefoyle. 
Only  a  little  difference  of  accent." 

"  Never  heard  the  word.     Did  you,  Polly?" 

"  Not  me." 

"Ah!  not  unnatural.  An  out-of-the-way  word," 
Greenacre  hid  his  contempt  beneath  a  smile.  "  Well 
now,  I  repeat  that  Lord  Polperro  longs  to  return  to 
the  bosom  of  his  family.  He  has  even  gone  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night  to  look  at  his  wife's  abode, 
and  returned  home  in  misery.  A  fact !  At  this 
moment — your  attention,  I  beg — I  am  assisting 
him  to  form  a  plan  by  which  he  will  be  enabled  to 
live  a  natural  life  without  the  unpleasantness  of 
public  gossip.  I  do  not  yet  feel  at  liberty  to  de- 
scribe our  project,  but  it  is  ripening.  What  I  ask 
you  is  this.  Will  you  trust  us  ?  Miss  Sparkes,  have 
I  your  confidence  ?  " 

"  It's  all  very  well,"  threw  in  Gammon,  before 
Polly  could  reply.  "  But  what  if  he  drops  down 
dead,  as  you  say  he  might  do  ?  What  about  his 
family  then  ?  " 

"  Gammon,"  replied  the  other,  with  great  solem- 
nity, "  I  asked  whether  I  had  your  confidence.  Do 
you,  or  do  you  not,  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that 
Lord  Polperro  has  long  since  executed  a  will  by 
which  not  only  are  his  wife  and  his  daughter  amply 
— most  amply — provided  for,  but  even  more  distant 
relatives  on  his  wife's  side?" 

He  gazed  impressively  at  Miss  Sparkes,  whose 
eyes  twinkled  as  she  turned  with  a  jerk  to  Gammon, 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   1 87 

"  Look  here,  Greenacre,"  exclaimed  the  man  of 
commerce,  let's  be  business-like.  I  may  trust 
you  or  I  may  not.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  how 
long  are  we  to  wait  before  he  comes  to  the  shop 
down  yonder  and  behaves  like  an  honest  man  ? 
Just  fix  a  date  and  I'll  make  a  note  of  it." 

"  My  dear  Gammon — " 

"  Go  ahead  !  " 

"  I  cannot  fix  a  date  on  my  own  responsibility.  It 
depends  so  greatly  on  his  lordship's  health.  I  can 
only  assure  you  that,  at  the  earliest  possible  moment, 
Lady  Polperro  will  be  summoned  to  an  interview 
with  her  husband — By  the  by,  I  trust  her  ladyship 
is  quite  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,   shes  all   right,"   replied   Gammon   impa- 
tiently. 

"  And  the  Honourable  Minnie  Trefoyle — she  too 
enjoys  good  health,  I  trust?" 

Polly  and  Gammon  exchanged  a  stare,  followed  by 
laughter  which  was  a  little  forced  on  the  man's  part. 

"That's  Miss  Clover,"  he  remarked.  "Sounds 
queer,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"That's  her  real  name?  "  cried  Polly. 

"  Indeed  it  is,  Miss  Sparkes,"  replied  Greenacre. 
"  But  let  me  remind  you — if  it  is  not  impertinent — 
that  beauty  and  grace  can  very  well  afford  to  dis- 
pense with  titles.  I  think,  Gammon,  you  and  I 
know  a  case  in  point." 

Polly  tossed  her  head  and  shuffled  her  feet,  well 
pleased  with  the  men's  laughter. 


l88  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  And  if  it  comes  to  that,"  Greenacre  pursued."  I 
don't  mind  saying,  Gammon,  that  I  suspect  you  to 
be  a  confoundedly  lucky  and  enviable  dog.  May  I 
congratulate  him.  Miss  Sparkes?  " 

"  Oh,  you  can  if  you   like,  Mr. 1  forget  your 

name." 

"  I  do  so  then.  Gammon.  I  congratulate  you, 
and  I  envy  you.  Heigh-ho  !  I'm  a  lonely  bachelor 
myself.  Miss  Sparkes — no,  hang  it.  Miss  Polly. 
You  may  well  look  pityingly  at  me." 

"  I'm  sure  I  didn't,  Mr. Ican't  remember  your 

name,"  answered  Polly,  with  a  delighted  giggle. 

"  See  here,  Greenacre,"  Gammon  interposed  gen- 
ially. "  Miss  Sparkes  and  I  will  have  to  talk  this 
over.  Mind  you,  I  give  no  promise.  I  found  out 
for  myself  who  Mr,  Clover  was  and  I  hold  myself 
free  to  do  what  I  think  fit.  You  quite  under- 
stand ?  " 

Greenacre  nodded  absently.  Then  he  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  I  quite  understand,  my  dear  boy.  I  should  like 
just  to  remind  you  that  there's  really  nothing  to  be 
gained,  one  way  or  the  other,  by  interfering  with 
Lord  Polperro  before  he  has  made  his  plans.  The 
ladies  would  in  no  way  be  benefited,  and  it's  very 
certain  no  one  else  would  be.  No  doubt  you'll  bear 
that  in  mind." 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  You  may  take  it  from  me, 
Greenacre,  that  I'm  tolerably  wide-awake — Can  I 
still  address  you  at  the  Bilboes  ?  " 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   1 89 

"  You  can,"  was  the  grave  and  dignified  reply. 
"  And  now — as  I  happen  to  have  an  appointment 
at  the  other  end  of  the  town — I  really  must  say 
good-bye.  I  repeat,  Miss  Sparkes,  you  may  trust 
me  absolutely.  I  have  your  interests  and  those  of 
my  friend  Gammon, — the  same  thing  now — thor- 
oughly at  heart.  You  will  hear  from  his  lordship, 
Miss  Sparkes — no,  hang  it,  Miss  Polly.  You  will 
very  soon  have  a  line  from  his  lordship,  who,  I  may 
venture  to  say,  is  really  attached  to  you.  He  speaks 
of  you  all  most  touchingly.  Good  evening.  Miss 
Polly,  not  good-bye  ;  we  are  to  meet  again  very  soon. 
And  who  knows  all  the  happy  changes  that  are 
before  you  ! —  Ta-ta,  Gammon.  Rely  upon  me  ;  I 
never  failed  a  friend  yet." 

So  saying  he  took  his  leave  with  bows  and  flour- 
ishes. Shortly  after,  Polly  and  Gammon  went  into 
the  superior  room  of  the  tavern  and  had  tea  together, 
talking  at  a  great  rate,  one  as  excited  as  the  other. 
Miss  Sparkes  being  already  attired  for  her  evening 
duties,  they  parted  only  when  they  were  obliged  to 
do  so,  agreeing  to  meet  again  when  Polly  left  the 
theatre. 

To  pass  this  interval  of  time,  Mr.  Gammon  dropped 
into  a  music-hall.  He  wished  to  meditate  on 
what  had  come  to  his  knowledge.  Had  it  not  been 
that  Lord  Polperro  was,  in  a  sense,  a  public  insti- 
tution, and  could  not  escape  him,  he  would  have 
felt  uneasy  about  the  doings  of  that  remarkable  fel- 
low Greenacre ;  as  it  was,  he  preferred  to  muse  on 


190  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

the  advantages  certain  to  befall  Minnie  and  her 
mother,  and  perchance  Polly  Sparkes.  After  all,  the 
niece  of  a  Lord  must  benefit  substantially  by  the 
connexion,  and,  by  consequence,  that  young  lady's 
husband.  No  one  could  have  been  freer  from  sec- 
ondary motives  than  he,  when  he  found  himself 
falling  in  love  with  Polly ;  and  if  it  turned  out  a 
marriage  of  unforeseen  brilliancy,  why,  so  much  the 
better.  Polly  had  not  altered  towards  him — dear, 
affectionate  girl  that  she  was  !  He  would  act  hon- 
ourably ;  she  should  have  the  chance  of  reconsider- 
ing her  position  ;  but — 

A  damsel  sparingly  clad  was  singing  in  the  serio- 
comic vein,  with  a  dance  after  each  stanza.  As  he 
sipped  his  whisky,  and  watched  and  listened.  Gam- 
mon felt  his  heart  glow  within  him.  The  melody 
was  lulling  ;  it  had  a  refrain  of  delicious  sentiment. 
The  listener's  eyes  grew  moist ;  there  rose  a  lump 
in  his  throat.  Dear  Polly!  Lovely  Polly  !  Would 
he  not  cherish  her  to  the  day  of  his  death !  How 
could  he  have  fancied  that  he  loved  any  one  else? 
Darling  Polly ! 

When  the  singer  withdrew,  he  clapped  violently, 
and  thereupon  called  for  another  Scotch,  hot  with 
lemon. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  a  friend  soon  discovered 
him,  a  man  who  declared  himself  in  a  whisper 
"  stonebroke,"  and  said,  after  a  glass  of  the  usual 
beverage,  that  if  the  truth  must  be  told  he  had 
looked  in  here  this  evening  to  save  himself  from  the 


LORD  POLPERRO'S  REPRESENTATIVE   IQI 

torments  of  despair.  Three  young  children,  and 
the  missus  just  going  to  have  another.  Did  Gam- 
mon know  of  any  opening  in  the  cork  line  ? 

"Afraid  not,"  rephed  the  traveller,  "but  I  know 
a  man  out  Hoxton  way  who's  pushing  a  new  lamp- 
glass  cleaner.  You  might  give  him  a  look  in.  It 
goes  well,  I'm  told  in  the  eastern  suburbs." 

Presently  a  coin  of  substantial  value  passed  from 
Gammon's  pocket  into  that  of  his  gloomy  friend. 

"  Poor  devil !  "  said  the  good  fellow  to  himself. 
"  He  married  a  tripe-dresser's  daughter,  and  she 
nags  him.  Never  had  a  chance  to  marry  a  jolly 
little  girl  who  turned  out  to  have  a  Lord  for  her 
uncle  ! " 

So  he  drank  and  applauded  and  piped  his  eye  and 
drank  again,  till  it  was  time  to  meet  Polly.  When 
he  went  forth  into  the  cold  street,  never  was  man 
more  softly  amorous,  more  mirthfully  exultant, 
more  kindly  disposed  to  all  the  dwellers  upon  earth. 
Life  abounds  in  such  modes  of  happiness, — yet  we 
are  told  that  it  is  a  sad  and  sorry  affair  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NOT  IN  THE  SECRET 

Since  his  adventure  in  knight-errantry,  Chris- 
topher Parish  had  suffered  terrible  alternations  of 
hope  and  despair.  For  fear  of  offending  Miss 
Sparkes,  he  did  not  press  for  an  explanation  of  the 
errand  on  which  she  had  sent  him  ;  enough  that  he 
was  again  permitted  to  see  her,  to  entertain  her 
modestly,  and  to  hold  her  attention  whilst  he  dis- 
coursed on  the  glories  of  the  firm  of  Swettenham. 
Every  week  supplied  him  with  new  and  astounding 
Swettenham  statistics.  He  was  able  to  report  as 
"an  absolute  fact,"  that  a  junior  member  of  the 
firm— a  junior,  mind  you-^was  building  a  house  at 
Eastbourne  which  would  cost  him,  all  told,  not  one 
penny  less  than  sixty-five  thousand  pounds !  He 
would  like  to  see  that  house  ;  in  fact  he  must  see  it. 
When  Easter  came  round,  would  Miss  Sparkes 
honour  him  with  her  company  on  a  day-trip  to  East- 
bourne, that  they  might  gaze  together  on  the  ap- 
palling mansion? 

"  P'r'aps,"  replied  Polly.     "  If  you're  good." 
Whereat  Mr.  Parish  perspired  with  ecstasy,  and 

began  at  once  to  plan  the  details  of  the  outing. 
192 


NOT   IN   THE   SECRET  193 

Indeed,  Polly  was  very  gracious  to  him,  and  pres- 
ently something  happened  which  enhanced  her 
graciousness, — perhaps  increased  her  genuine  liking 
for  the  amiable  young  man.  Her  friend  Miss  Wag- 
horn  was  about  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Nibby.  It 
was  a  cheerless  time  of  the  year  for  a  wedding,  but 
Mr.  Nibby  had  just  come  in  for  a  little  legacy,  on 
the  strength  of  which  he  took  a  house  in  a  south- 
east suburb  and  furnished  it,  on  the  hire  system, 
with  a  splendour  which  caused  Miss  Waghorn  to 
shriek  in  delight,  and  severely  tested  the  magnani- 
mity of  Polly's  friendship.  Polly  was  to  be  bride's- 
maid,  and  must  needs  have  a  becoming  dress  ;  but 
where  was  it  to  come  from  ?  Her  perfidious  uncle 
had  vanished  (she  knew  not  yet  who  that  uncle 
really  was),  and  her  "  tips  "  of  late  had  been — in 
Polly's  language — measley.  In  the  course  of  friendly 
chat  she  mentioned  to  Mr.  Parish  that  the  wedding 
was  for  that  day  week,  and  added,  with  head  aside, 
that  she  couldn't  imagine  what  she  was  going  to 
wear. 

"  I  shall  patch  up  some  old  dress,  I  s'pose.  Lucky 
it's  dark  weather." 

Christopher  became  meditative,  and  seemed  to 
shirk  the  subject.  But  on  the  morrow  there  ar- 
rived for  Polly  a  letter  addressed  in  his  handwriting  ; 
an  envelope  rather,  which  contained  two  postal 
orders,  each  for  one  pound,  but  not  a  word  on  the 
paper  enfolding  them. 

"  Well,  there  now,"  cried  Polly  within  herself, 
'3 


194  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  if  that  ain't  gentlemanly  of  him !  Who'd  *a* 
thought  it !  And  me  just  going  to  put  my  bracelet 
away  !  " 

By  which  she  meant  that  she  was  about  to  pawn 
her  jewellery  to  procure  a  bridesmaid's  dress.  Grat- 
itude, for  the  moment,  quite  overcame  her.  She 
sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  of  thanks,  so  worded 
that  the  recipient  was  beside  himself  for  a  whole 
day.  He,  in  turn,  wrote  a  letter  of  three  full  sheets, 
wherein,  among  other  lyrical  extravagances,  he  ex- 
pressed a  wish  that  by  dying  a  death  of  slow  torture 
he  could  endow  Miss  Sparkes  with  fabulous  wealth. 
How  gladly  would  he  perish,  knowing  that  she 
would  come  to  lay  artificial  flowers  upon  his  grave, 
and  to  the  end  of  her  life  see  that  the  letters  on  his 
tombstone  were  kept  legible  ! 

So  Polly  made  a  handsome  appearance  at  the 
wedding.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  came  near  to 
exciting  unpleasantness  between  bride  and  bride- 
groom, so  indiscreet  was  Mr.  Nibby  in  his  spoken 
and  silent  admiration.  After  consuming  a  great 
deal  of  indifferent  champagne  at  Mr.  Nibby 's  lodg- 
ings, the  blissful  couple  departed  to  spend  a  week 
at  Bournemouth,  and  Polly  returned  to  the  room  in 
Shaftesbury  Avenue,  which  henceforth  she  would 
occupy  alone.  "  And  a  good  riddance  !  "  she  said 
to  herself,  pettishly,  as  she  stripped  off  her  wedding 
garments. 

On  this  very  evening  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Gammon 
— the  letter  he  was  never  to  read. 


NOT   IN   THE  SECRET  1 95 

Mr.  Gammon  had  received  an  invitation  to  the 
ceremony,  but,  through  pressure  of  business,  was 
unable  to  accept  it.  He  felt,  too,  that  there  would 
have  been  awkwardness  in  thus  meeting  with  Polly 
for  the  first  time  since  their  rupture  on  the  Em- 
bankment. Polly  of  course  concluded  that  he  kept 
away  solely  because  he  did  not  wish  to  see  her.  In 
the  mood  induced  by  this  reflection  and  by  the 
turbid  emotions  natural  to  such  a  day,  she  penned 
her  farewell  to  the  insulting  and  perfidious  man. 
Mr.  Gammon  was  informed  that  never  and  nowhere 
would  Miss  Sparkes  demean  herself  by  exchanging 
another  word  with  him  ;  that  he  was  a  low  and  vul- 
gar and  ignorant  person,  without  manners  enough 
for  a  road-scraper  ;  moreover,  that  she  had  long  since 
been  the  object  of  sincere  attentions  from  some  one 
so  vastly  his  superior  that  they  were  not  to  be 
named  in  the  same  month.  This  overflow  of  feel- 
ing was  some  relief,  but  Polly  could  not  rest  until 
she  had  also  written  to  Mrs.  Clover.  She  made 
known  to  her  aunt  that  Mr.  Gammon  had  of  late 
been  guilty  of  such  insolent  behaviour  to  her,  the 
writer,  that  she  had  serious  thoughts  of  seeking  pro- 
tection from  the  police.  "  As  he  is  such  a  great 
friend  of  yours  and  Minnie's,  I  thought  I  had  better 
warn  you.  Perhaps  you  might  like  to  try  and  teach 
him  better  behaviour,  though  I  can't  say  as/<?«  are 
the  person  to  do  it.  And  you  may  be  pleased  to 
hear  that  I  should  not  wonder  if  I  am  shortly  to  be 
married  to  a  geyitl&tnan  which  it  won't  surprise  you. 


196  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

after  that  if  I  am  unable  to  see  anything  more  of 
you  and  your  family." 

But  for  a  violent  storm  which  broke  out  after 
eleven  that  night,  just  as  she  finished  these  compo- 
sitions, Polly  would  have  posted  them  forthwith, 
and  Mr.  Gammon  would  in  that  case  have  received 
his  letter  by  the  first  post  next  morning.  As  it 
was,  they  remained  in  Polly's  room  all  night ;  and 
only  an  hour  or  two  after  their  actual  dispatch  came 
the  fateful  telegram,  which  was  to  make  such  a  rev- 
olution in  Miss  Sparkes'  sentiments  and  prospects. 
Mrs.  Clover  duly  received  her  missive,  and  gave  a 
good  deal  of  thought  to  it.  Being  a  woman  of  some 
self-command,  she  spoke  no  word  of  the  matter  to 
Minnie ;  nor,  though  greatly  tempted,  did  she  pen 
a  reply.  But  in  a  few  days  she  sent  a  quiet  invita- 
tion to  Polly's  father,  desiring  the  pleasure  of  his 
company  at  tea  on  Sunday. 

Mr.  Sparkes  came.  He^  was  in  very  low  spirits ; 
for  during  the  past  week  Chaffey's  had  disgraced 
itself  (if  Chaff ey's  could  now  be  disgraced)  by  sup- 
plying a  supper  at  eighteenpence  per  head,  exclusive 
of  liquors,  to  certain  provincial  representatives  of 
the  Rag,  Bone  and  Bottle  Dealers'  Alliance,  in  town 
for  the  purpose  of  attending  a  public  meeting. 
He  called  it  'art-breaking,  he  did.  The  long  and 
short  of  it  was,  he  must  prepare  himself — and 
Chaffey's — for  the  inevitable  farewell.  Why,  it 
wasn't  as  if  they  had  supplied  the  rag-tags  with  2. good 
supper !    You  should  have  seen  the  stuff  put  before 


NOT   IN   THE   SECRET  197 

them  ;  every  blessed  dish  a  hash-up  of  leavings  and 
broken-meats  !  No  man  with  a  vestige  or  self-re- 
spect could  continue  to  wait  at  such  entertainments. 
And  this  amid  the  gilding  and  the  plush  and  the 
marble-topped  tables,  which  sickened  one  with  their 
surface  imitation  of  real  rest'rants. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  retire  into  private  life, 
Ebenezer?"  asked  his  hostess.  "I'm  sure  you 
could — couldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  Louisa,"  he  replied,  with  hesitation,  "  if 
it  comes  to  that,  I  could.  But  I  'ardly  know  how  I 
should  spend  my  time." 

The  conversation  turned  to  the  subject  of  Polly, 
and — as  they  were  alone  together — Mrs.  Clover  ex- 
hibited the  letter  she  had  received  from  that  young 
lady. 

"  Now  what  have  you  to  say  to  that,  Ebenezer? 
Don't  you  call  it  shameful  ?  " 

Mr.  Sparkes  sighed  deeply. 

"  I've  warned  her,  Louisa.  I've  warned  her 
solemn.     What  more  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  You  see  how  she  goes  on  about  Mr.  Gammon. 
Now,  I'm  as  sure  as  I  am  of  anything  that  it's  all 
lies.  I  dont  believe  Mr.  Gammon  has  insulted  her. 
There  was  something  happened  before  she  left  Mrs. 
Bubb's — a  bit  of  unpleasantess  there's  no  need  to 
talk  about, — but  I'm  as  sure  as  I  sit  here,  Ebenezer, 
that  Mr.  Gammon  wouldn't  insult  any  girl  in  the 
way  Polly  says." 

**  Why  don't  you  ask  him  ?  ** 


iqS  the  town  traveller 

Mrs.  Clover  glanced  at  the  door  and  betrayed 
uneasiness, 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  he  doesn't  come  here  just 
now.  You  won't  let  it  go  any  further,  Ebenezer, 
but,  the  truth  is  he  began  to  take  a  sort  of  fancy  to 
Minnie ;  and  he  told  me  about  it,  just  as  he  ought 
to  *a'  done  ;  and  I  had  to  tell  him  plain  that  it  wasn't 
a  bit  of  use.  For  one  thing  Minnie  was  too  young  ; 
and  what's  more,  she  hadn't  even  given  half  a 
thought  to  him  in  that  way,  and  I  wouldn't  have 
the  child  worried  about  such  things.  Because,  as 
you  know,  she's  delicate  and  it  doesn't  take  much 
to  upset  her  in  her  mind,  and  then  she  can't  sleep 
at  nights.  So  I  told  Mr.  Gammon  plain  and  straight, 
and  he  took  it  in  the  right  spirit,  but  he  hasn't 
been  here  since.  And  I'm  as  sure  as  anything  that 
Polly's  letter  is  a  nasty,  mean  bit  of  falsehood, — 
though  I'm  sorry  to  have  to  say  it  to  you,  Ebenezer." 

Mr.  Sparkes  had  the  beginning  of  a  cold  in  the 
head,  which  did  not  tend  to  make  him  cheerful. 
Sitting  by  the  fireside,  very  upright  in  his  decent 
suit  of  Sunday  black,  he  looked  more  than  ever 
like  a  clergyman  ;  perchance  a  curate  who  is  grow- 
ing old  without  a  hope  of  a  benefice.  Fortunately, 
there  entered  about  tea-time  a  young  man  in  much 
better  spirits,  evidently  a  welcome  friend  of  Mrs. 
Clover's,  his  name  was  Nelson.  On  his  arrival, 
Minnie  joined  the  company,  and  it  would  have  been 
remarked  by  any  one  with  an  interest  in  the  affairs 
of  the  family,  that  Mrs.  Clover  was  not  at  all  re- 


NOT   IN   THE   SECRET  IQQ 

luctant  to  see  her  daughter  and  this  young  man 
amiably  conversing.  Mr,  Nelson  had  something 
not  unlike  the  carriage  and  tone  of  a  gentleman  ; 
he  talked  quietly,  though  light-heartedly,  and  from 
remarks  he  let  fall  it  appeared  that  he  was  somehow 
connected  with  the  decorative  arts.  Minnie  and 
he  dropped  into  a  discussion  of  some  new  ceramic 
design  put  forth  by  Doulton's ;  they  seemed  to 
understand  each  other  and  grew  more  animated 
as  they  exchanged  opinions.  The  hostess,  mean- 
while, kept  glancing  at  them  with  a  smile  of  benevo- 
ence. 

At  the  tea-table,  Mr.  Nelson  gratified  Mr.  Sparkes 
by  an  allusion  to  almost  the  only  topic — apart  from 
Chaffey's — which  could  draw  that  grave  man  into 
continuous  speech.  Mr,  Sparkes  had  but  one  recre- 
ation, that  of  angling ;  for  many  years  he  had  de- 
voted such  hours  of  summer  leisure  as  Chaffey's 
granted  him  to  piscatory  excursions,  were  it  only  as 
far  as  the  Welsh  Harp.  Finding  this  young  man 
disposed  to  lend  a  respectful  ear,  and  to  venture  in- 
telligent questions,  he  was  presently  discoursing  at 
large. 

"  Chub?  Why,  chub's  a  kind  of  carp,  don't  you 
see  ?  There's  no  fish  pulls  'arder  than  a  chub,  not 
in  the  ordinary  way  of  fishing.  A  chub,  he'll  pull 
just  like  a  little  pig  ;  he  will  indeed,  if  you  believe 
me." 

"  And  a  jack,  uncle,"  put  in  Minnie,  who  liked  to 
please  the  old  man.     "  Doesn't  a  jack  pull  hard  ?  " 


200  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Well,  it's  like  this,  my  dear  ;  it  depends  on  the 
bottom,  when  it's  a  jack.  If  the  bottom  is  weedy, 
see  ? — you  must  keep  your  line  tight,  on  a  jack. 
Let  him  run  and  you're  as  like  as  not  to  lose  thirty 
or  forty  yards  of  your  line." 

"  And  the  lines  are  expensive,  aren't  they,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  give  eighteen  and  six  for  my 
preserved  jack  line — hundred  yards,  eighteen  and 
six! 

There  followed  one  of  his  old  stories,  of  a  jack 
which  had  been  eating  up  young  ducklings  on  a 
certain  pond ;  how  he  had  baited  for  this  fellow 
with  a  live  duckling,  the  hook  through  the  tips  of 
its  wings, — got  him  in  twenty  minutes, — and  he 
turned  the  scale  at  four-and-twenty  pounds.  Roach 
and  perch  were  afterwards  discussed.  In  Mr. 
Sparkes'  opinion,  the  best  bait  for  these  fish  was  a 
bit  of  dough  kneaded  up  with  loose  wool.  ChafTey's 
— at  all  events,  Chaffey's  of  to-day — would  not 
have  known  its  head-waiter  could  it  have  seen  and 
heard  him  as  he  thus  held  forth.  The  hostess 
showed  a  fear  lest  Mr.  Nelson  should  have  more 
than  enough  of  cockney  angling  ;  but  he  and  Minnie 
were  at  one  in  good-natured  attentiveness  and  in 
the  end  Mrs.  Clover  overcame  her  uneasiness. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Minnie's  mother,  overcom- 
ing a  secret  scruple  and  yielding  to  a  long  desire, 
allowed  herself  to  write  a  letter  to  Mr.  Gammon. 
It  was  a  very  simple,  not  ill-composed,  letter  ;  its 
object  to  express  regret  for  the  ill-temper  she  had 


NOT   IN   THE   SECRET  20I 

shown,  now  many  weeks  ago,  on  her  parting  with 
Mr.  Gammon  in  Kennington  Road.  Would  he  not 
look  in  at  the  china-shop,  just  in  the  old  way  ?  It 
would  please  her  very  much,  for  indeed  she  had 
never  meant  or  dreamt  a  termination  to  their  friend- 
ship. They  had  known  each  other  so  long  ;  would 
not  Mr.  Gammon  overlook  her  foolishness,  re- 
membering all  she  had  had  to  go  through  ?  So  she 
signed  herself  his  "  friend  always  the  same,"  and, 
having  done  so,  looked  at  the  last  line  rather  timidly, 
and  made  haste  to  close  the  letter. 

An  answer  arrived  without  undue  delay,  and  Mrs. 
Clover  went  apart  to  read  it  ;  her  breath  quicker 
than  usual,  and  her  fingers  tremulous.  Mr.  Gammon 
wrote  with  unfeigned  cordiality — just  like  himself. 
He  hoped  to  call  very  soon,  though  it  might  still 
be  a  few  weeks.  There  was  nothing  to  forgive  on 
his  part ;  he  wasn't  such  a  fool  as  to  be  angry  with 
an  old  friend  for  a  few  hasty  words.  But  the  truth 
was  he  had  a  lot  of  business  on  his  hands  ;  he  was 
doing  his  best  to  get  into  a  permanency  at  Quod- 
ling's  of  Norton  Folgate,  and  he  knew  Mrs.  Clover 
would  be  glad  to  hear  that.  Let  her  give  his 
kind  regards  to  Miss  Minnie,  and  believe  him  when 
he  said  that  he  was  just  as  friendly  disposed  as 
ever. 

Beneath  these  words  Mrs.  Clover  naturally  enough 
detected  nothing  of  the  strange  experiences  in  which 
Mr.  Gammon  was  involved.  "  Kind  regards  to 
Minnie."      Yes,  there  was   the    explanation  of  his 


202  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

silence.  He  called  her  his  "  old  friend  " — a  phrase 
of  double  meaning.  Mrs.  Clover,  in  spite  of  her 
good  sense,  was  vexed,  and  wished  he  had  not  said 
"  Old."  Why,  had  she  not  three  or  four  years  the 
advantage  of  him  in  youthf ulness  ? 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE   husband's   RETURN 

Gammon  would  gladly  have  answered  in  person 
to  Mrs.  Clover's  letter  ;  but  he  had  promised  Polly 
that  he  would  neither  visit  the  china-shop  nor  in 
any  way  communicate  with  her  aunt.  Polly  had 
made  a  great  point  of  this,  and  he  thought  the  rea^ 
son  was  not  far  to  seek  ;  she  still  harboured  jealousy 
of  her  cousin,  and  no  doubt  it  would  be  delightful 
to  make  known,  just  how  and  when  she  herself  saw 
fit,  her  triumph  over  Minnie.  So  he  kept  away 
from  Battersea  Park  Road,  though  often  wishing  to 
spend  an  evening  there  in  the  old  way,  with  Mrs. 
Clover's  bright  face  on  one  side  of  him,  and  Minnie's 
modestly  bent  head  on  the  other. 

It  would  have  been  so  restful  after  all  this  excite- 
ment ;  for,  however  he  tried  to  grasp  the  facts,  Mrs. 
Clover  and  Minnie  still  seemed  remote  from  the 
world  of  wealth  and  titles ;  he  could  not  change 
their  names,  or  see  them  in  any  other  position  than 
that  which  was  familiar  and  natural.  In  talk  with 
Polly,   he   always   rose   to    hilarious  anticipations, 

partly  the  result  of  amorous  fervour  ;  but  this  mood 

203 


204  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

did  not  survive  their  parting.  Alone,  he  was  fre- 
quently troubled  with  uneasiness,  with  misgivings; 
more  so  as  the  days  went  by  without  bringing  any 
news  from  Greenacre.  Under  the  cover  of  night, 
he  visited  Lowndes  Mansions  and  hung  about  there 
for  half  an  hour,  like  unto  one  with  lugubrious  in- 
tentions ;  but  his  trouble  profited  him  nothing. 
Polly  was  growing  impatient.  After  the  manner 
of  her  kind,  she  brooded  on  suspicions,  and  hatched 
numerous  more  or  less  wild  conjectures.  What  if 
Greenacre  spirited  Lord  Polperro  away  for  some 
dark  purpose  of  his  own  ?  Gammon  himself  could 
not  help  suspecting  the  mysterious  man  of  deep 
projects  which  would  tend  to  the  disadvantage  of 
Lord  Polperro's  forsaken  wife  and  child.  At  the 
end  of  a  fortnight  he  wrote  to  Greenacre  at  the 
Bilboes,  pressing  for  information.  To  his  surprise 
and  satisfaction,  this  brought  about  an  interview  on 
the  following  day.  Greenacre  seemed  radiant  with 
a  good  conscience. 

"  All  is  going  well,"  he  declared.  "  Our  noble 
friend  is  improving  in  health — temporarily,  at  all 
events.  Doubtless  it  is  the  result  of  having  his 
mind  more  at  ease.  You  can't  imagine.  Gammon, 
how  that  man  has  been  tormented  by  remorse.  I 
am  not  yet  at  liberty  to  disclose  his  plans.  But  I 
shall  certainly  be  so  very  soon — very  soon.  I  won't 
say  Christmas  ;  but  before  New  Year's  Day  I  feel 
confident  I  shall  have  got  things  completely  in 
order.     I   will  only  hint  to  you  that  his  lordship 


THE    husband's   RETURN  205 

wishes  to  retire  from  the  world — to  live  a  perfectly 
quiet  and  simple  domestic  life,  in  a  locality  which 
will  be  favourable  to  his  health.  You  will  agree 
with  us,  I  know,  that  this  is  far  better  than  trying 
to  brave  the  gossip  and  scandal  of  society.  I  may 
now  tell  you — in  strict  confidence — that  our  friend 
has  already  written  a  letter  to  his  wife,  ready  to  be 
posted  as  soon  as  ever  the  last  details  are  settled — 
By-the-bye,  Gammon,  I  hope  there  can  be  no  doubt 
as  to  Lady  Polperro's  willingness  to  concur  in  what 
her  husband  proposes?  " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that''  Gammon 
replied  "  I  can't  answer  for  her." 

"  Naturally.  Of  course  not.  But  I  hope  there 
will  be  no  unexpected  difficulty  on  that  side.  Lord 
Polperro  has  his  fears  which  I  have  done  my  best  to 
dispel.  We  can  but  hope — put  our  trust  in  the 
forgiving  nature  of  woman." 

It  now  wanted  but  a  very  short  time  to  Christ- 
mas. As  the  day  drew  near,  Gammon  felt  that 
this  state  of  worrying  suspense  was  growing  intoler- 
able. Polly's  suspicions  were  louder;  her  temper 
became  uncertain  ;  once  or  twice  she  forgot  herself, 
and  used  language  calculated  to  cause  a  breach  of 
the  peace.  On  these  occasions  Gammon  found  him- 
self doubting  whether  she  really  was  the  girl  after 
his  own  heart ;  he  could  have  wished  that  she  had 
rather  less  spirit.  Overcome  by  her  persistence, 
he  at  length  definitely  engaged  to  wait  no  longer 
than  the  end  of  the  year.     If  by  that  time  Green- 


io6  THE    TOWN   TRAVELLER 

acre  had  not  put  things  in  order,  Polly  was  to  seek 
her  aunt  and  make  known  all  that  they  had  dis- 
covered. 

"  We  won't  be  'umbugged ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"And  it  begins  to  look  to  me  jolly  like  'umbugging 
— I  don't  know  wha.t  j/ou  think." 

Gammon  admitted  that  the  state  of  things  was 
very  unsatisfactory,  and  must  come  to  an  end.  The 
last  day  of  the  year;  so  be  it.  After  that,  Polly 
should  have  her  way. 

It  was  the  middle  of  Christmas  week.  A  letter 
to  the  Bilboes  remained  without  answer,  Gammon 
and  Polly  met  every  day,  excited  each  other,  lost 
their  tempers,  were  stormily  reconciled.  On  the 
morning  of  the  thirty-first.  Gammon  received  four 
letters  begging  for  pecuniary  assistance,  but  noth- 
ing from  Greenacre.  He  had  slept  badly;  his 
splendid  health  was  beginning  to  suffer.  By  jor- 
rocks  !  there  should  be  an  end  of  this,  and  that 
quickly  ! 

As  he  loitered  without  appetite  over  a  particularly 
greasy  breakfast,  listening  to  Mrs.  Bubb's  description 
of  an  ailment  from  which  her  youngest  child  was 
suffering,  Moggie  came  into  the  kitchen  and  said 
that  a  young  man  wished  to  see  him.  Gammon 
rushed  up  to  the  front  door,  where,  in  mist  and 
drizzle,  stood  a  muscular  youth  whom  he  did  not 
recognise. 

"  I've  come  from  Mrs.  Clover's,  sir,"  said  this 
meeeenger,  touching  his  hat,  "  She'd  be  very  glad  to 


THE    husband's   RETURN  207 

see  you  as  soon  as  you  could  make  it  convenient  to 
look  round." 

"Is  that  all?" 

That  was  all ;  nothing  more  could  be  learnt  from 
the  young  man,  and  Gammon  promised  to  come 
forthwith.  Luckily  he  could  absent  himself  from 
Quodling's  to-day  with  no  great  harm  ;  so,  after  a 
few  words  with  Mrs.  Bubb,  he  pulled  on  his  great 
coat  and  set  off  by  the  speediest  way.  Only  after 
starting  did  he  remember  his  promise  to  Polly. 
That  could  not  be  helped.  The  case  seemed  to  be 
urgent,  and  he  must  beg  for  indulgence.  He  had 
an  appointment  with  Polly  for  six  o'clock  this  even- 
ing. In  the  excitement  of  decisive  action  (it  being 
the  last  day  of  the  year)  she  would  probably  over- 
look this  small  matter. 

He  found  Mrs.  Clover  in  the  shop.  She  reddened 
at  sight  of  him,  and  after  a  hurried  greeting  asked 
him  to  step  into  the  parlour,  where  she  carefully 
closed  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Gammon — have  you  heard  anything  about 
my  husband  ?  " 

The  question  disconcerted  him ;  he  tried  inef- 
fectually to  shape  a  denial. 

"  You  have  !  I  can  see  you  have  ! — it  doesn't 
matter.  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me  anything.  But 
he's  now  in  this  house." 

She  was  greatly  agitated  ;  not  angry,  but  beset 
by  perplexities  and  distress. 

"  He  came  last  night,  about  ten  o'clock — came  to 


208  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

the  door,  wrapped  up,  like  a  stranger — it  was  almost 
too  much  for  me  when  I  heard  his  voice.  He 
wanted  to  come  in — to  stay  ;  and  of  course  I  let  him. 
Minnie  had  to  know,  poor  girl.  He's  in  the  spare 
room.     Did  you  know  he  meant  to  come  ?  " 

"  I  ?     Hadn't  an  idea  of  it,  Mrs.  Clover  !  " 

"  But  you  know  something  about  him.  He  tells 
me  you  do,  he  wants  to  see  you.  There's  only  one 
thing  I  ask — has  he  been  doing  wrong  ?  Oh,  do 
tell  me  that!" 

Gammon  protested  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
kind,  and  added  that  he  had  only  seen  the  man 
once,  for  a  minute,  now  more  than  a  month 
ago. 

"  And  you  kept  it  from  me  ! "  said  his  friend  re- 
proachfully. "  I  didn't  think  you'd  have  done  that, 
Mr.  Gammon  !  " 

"  There  was  a  reason.  I  shouldn't  have  thought 
of  doing  it,  if  there  hadn't  been  a  good  reason." 

"  Never  mind,  I  won't  interfere.  I  feel  as  if  it 
had  nothing  to  do  with  me.  Will  you  go  up-stairs 
to  him  ?  He  looks  to  me  as  if  he  hadn't  very  long 
to  live,  indeed  he  does. — Listen,  that's  his  cough ! 
Oh,  I  am  so  upset.  It  came  so  sudden. — And  to 
think  you'd  seen  him,  and  never  told  me  ! — Never 
mind ;  go  up  to  him,  if  you  will,  and  see  what  he 
wants  with  you." 

Gammon  did  her  bidding.  He  ascended  lightly 
and  tapped  at  the  door  Mrs.  Clover  indicated.  A 
cough  sounded  from  within  ;  then  a  voice  which  the 


THE    HUSBANDS    RETURN  209 

visitor  recognised,  saying,  "  Come  in."  On  the  bed, 
but  fully  dressed,  lay  a  tall,  meagre  man,  with  a 
woollen  comforter  about  his  neck.  The  room  was  in 
good  order,  and  warmed  by  a  fire,  which  the  suf- 
ferer's condition  seemed  to  make  very  necessary. 
Jie  fixed  his  eyes  on  Gammon,  as  if  trying  to  smile, 
but  defeated  in  the  effort  by  pain  and  misery. 

"  I'm  here,  you  see,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  There's 
no  doubt  about  me  now." 

"  Got  a  bad  cold,  eh  ?  "  replied  the  other,  as  cheer- 
fully as  he  could. 

"  Yes,  a  cold.  Always  have  a  cold.  Would  you 
mind  reaching  me  the  kettle  ?  " 

He  poured  out  some  brandy  from  a  bottle  which 
stood  on  the  floor  and  mixed  it  with  a  little  hot 
water.  Gammon  the  while  observed  him  with  much 
curiosity.  In  five  years  or  a  little  more,  he  had  be- 
come an  old  and  feeble  man  ;  his  thin  hair  was  all 
but  completely  grey  ;  the  flesh  had  wasted  and  dis- 
coloured ;  his  hand  trembled,  his  breath  came  with 
diflficulty.  Present  illness  accounted,  perhaps,  for 
the  latter  symptoms ;  but  from  that  glimpse  of  him 
in  Norton  Folgate,  Gammon  had  known  that  he  was 
much  aged  and  shaken.  Hat,  overcoat  and  mufifler, 
had  partly  disguised  what  was  now  evident.  He 
spoke  with  the  accent  of  an  educated  man,  and  in 
the  tone  of  one  whom  nature  has  endowed  with 
amiable  qualities.  The  bottle  beside  him  seemed 
to  explain  certain  peculiarities  of  his  manner;  when 
he  had  drunk  thirstily  he  raised  himself  to  a  sitting 
H 


210  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

posture,  and  nodded  to  his  visitor  in  invitation  to 
take  a  chair. 

"  I'm  here  you  see,  Gammon.    Here,  at  last." 

"  Why  did  you  come?  " 

"  Why  ?— ah,  why  indeed  !  " 

Having  sighed  out  this  ejaculation,  he  seemed  to 
grow  absent,  to  forget  that  he  was  not  alone.  A 
violent  cough  shook  him  into  wakefulness  again,  he 
stared  at  Gammon  with  red  eyes  full  of  pain  and 
fear  and  said  thickly  : 

"  Are  you  an  honest  man — you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  hope  so— try  to  be—" 

"What's  his  name — you  know  him,  don't  you?" 

"  Do  you  mean  Greenacre  ?  "  asked  Gammon, 
feeling  very  uncomfortable,  for  the  man  before  him 
looked  like  one  who  struggles  for  his  last  breath. 

"  Greenacre — yes.  What  has  he  told  you  about 
me  ? 

Gammon  answered  with  the  simple  truth  ;  the 
situation  alarmed  him,  and  he  would  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  conspiracy  in  such  a  case.  He 
could  not  feel  sure  that  his  explanations  were  fol- 
lowed and  understood,  now  and  then  the  bloodshot 
eyes  turned  blankly  to  him,  as  if  in  a  drunken 
dream  ;  but  in  the  end  he  saw  a  look  of  satisfaction. 

"  You're  an  honest  man — aren't  you  ?  We  used 
to  know  each  other — you  know  when.  My  wife 
likes  you,  doesn't  she?" 

"  We've  always  been  friends,  of  course,"  Gammon 
replied. 


THE    husband's    RETURN  211 

"  Would  you  mind  giving  me  the  kettle  ?  "  He 
mixed  another  glass  of  brandy,  spilHng  a  great  deal 
in  the  process.  "  I  don't  offer  you  any,  Greenacre. 
It's  medicine — I  take  it  as  such.  One  doesn't  offer 
one's  friends  a  glass  of  medicine,  you  know,  Green- 
acre." 

"  My  name  is  Gammon." 

"  What  am  I  thinking  about ! — There  was  some- 
thing I  wanted  to  ask  you.  Yes — of  course.  Does 
she  know?  " 

"  You  mean  does  your  wife  know  who  you  really 
are  ?  "  said  Gammon,  in  a  cautious  voice.  "  Haven't 
you  told  her?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"Then  I  don't  think  any  one  else  has." 

The  man  had  fallen  back  upon  the  pillow.  He 
began  to  cough,  struggled  to  raise  himself  and  be- 
came seated  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

"  Well,  it's  time  we  were  going." 

**  Where  to  ?  "    asked  Gammon. 

The  other  stared  at  him  in  surprise  and  distress. 

"  Surely  I  haven't  to  tell  you  all  over  again  ! 
Weren't  you  listening?  You're  a  man  of  business, 
are  you  not?  Surely  you  ought  to  have  a  clear  head 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"  Just  tell  me  again,  in  a  word  or  two.  What  can 
I  do  for  you  ?     Do  you  want  to  see  anybody  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember."  He  laid  a  hand  on  his 
companion's  shoulder.  "  The  matter  stands  thus, 
Greenacre.      I    trust   you  implicitly ;  once  more  I 


212  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

assure  you  of  that.  But  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
for  me  to  see  my  solicitor." 

"  All  right.     What's  his  name  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you.  Cuthbertson — old  Jewry  Cham- 
bers. But  first  of  all,  let  us  come  to  an  understand- 
ing about  that  man  Quodling.  I  called  upon  his 
brother — why,  I  told  you  all  that  before.  Didn't 
I?" 

"You  had  just  been  there  when  I  met  you  in 
Norton  Folgate,"  said  Gammon,  who  felt  that  be- 
fore long  his  own  wits  would  begin  to  wander. 

**  To  be  sure. — And  now  we  really  must  be  go- 

•       »> 
mg. 

He  stood  up,  staggering  ;  gained  his  balance  and 
walked  to  the  window.  The  prospect  there  seemed 
to  recall  him  to  a  consciousness  of  the  actual  pres- 
ent, and  he  looked  round  appealingly,  distressfully. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Gammon.  "  You 
ought  to  get  into  bed,  and  have  a  doctor.  Shall  I 
help  you  ?  " 

"  No — no — I  regret  that  I  came  here,  Greenacre. 
I  am  not  welcome  ;  how  could  I  expect  to  be  ?  If  I 
an  going  to  be  ill,  it  mustn't  be  here." 

"  Then  let  me  get  a  cab,  and  take  you  to  your 
own  place — if  your  wife  is  willing," 

"  That  would  be  best.  The  truth  is,  I  feel  terri- 
bly queer,  Greenacre,  Suppose  I — suppose  I  died 
here  ?  Of  course  I  ought  never  to  have  come. 
Think  of  the  talk  there  would  be.  And  that's  just 
what  I  wanted  to  spare  them — the  talk  and  the  dis- 


THE    HUSBANDS    RETURN  213 

grace.  It  can  all  be  managed  by  my  solicitor.  But 
I  felt  that  come  I  must.  After  all,  you  see,  it's 
home.  You  understand  that  ?  It's  really  my  home. 
I've  been  here  often  at  night — just  to  see  the  house. 
The  wonder  is  that  I  didn't  come  in  before.  Of 
course  I  knew  I  couldn't  be  welcome — but  one's 
wife  and  child,  Greenacre.  The  real  wife,  whether 
the  other's  alive  or  not." 

Gammon  started. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  Nothing — nothing.  You  are  a  good  fellow,  I 
am  sure,  and  my  wife  likes  you — that's  quite 
enough.  The  point  is  this  now.  I  must  destroy 
that  will,  and  get  Cuthbertson  to  draw  a  deed  of 
gift — all  in  order  you  know,  but  nothing  that  could 
get  wind  and  make  a  scandal.  The  will  would  be 
publicly  known.  I  ought  to  have  remembered 
that.  I  repeat,  Greenacre,  that  what  I  have  to  do 
is  to  provide  for  them  both  without  causing  them 
any  trouble  or  disgrace." 

Catching  the  listener's  eye,  he  became  silent  and 
confused  for  a  moment,  then  added  quickly  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  addressed  you  by  the 
wrong  name.  Gammon,  I  meant  to  say.  Gammon, 
my  wife's  friend:  a  thoroughly  honest  man.  Have 
I  made  myself  clear,  Gammon,  I — .  You  see  how 
the  matter  stands  ?  " 

Gammon  was  beginning  to  see  that  the  matter 
stood  in  a  perilous  position,  and  that  the  sooner 
Mr.  Cuthbertson — if  such  a  person  existed— could 


214  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

be  brought  on  to  the  scene,  the  better  for  every  one 
concerned.  He  asked  himself  whether  he  ought  to 
summon  Mrs.  Clover.  His  glance  towards  the  door 
must  have  betrayed  his  thought,  for  the  sick  man 
spoke  as  though  in  reply  to  it. 

"  We  will  say  nothing  to  her  yet,  if  you  please. 
I — I  begin  to  feel  a  little  better.  Our  long  con- 
fidential talk  has  done  me  good.  By-the-bye, 
Greenacre — I  beg  your  pardon.  Gammon — you  quite 
understand  that  it  is  all  in  the  strictest  confidence. 
I  trust  you  implicitly,  as  my  dear  wife's  friend.  It 
is  all  in  her  interests,  as  you  see.  I  think,  now,  if 
you  would  kindly  get  a  cab — yes,  I  feel  quite  equal 
to  it,  now;  we  will  go  to  Lowndes  Mansions." 

The  voice  was  thin,  husky,  senile  ;  but  his  tone 
had  more  of  rationality,  and  he  appeared  to  have 
made  up  his  mind  to  a  course  of  action.  Gammon 
presently  went  down-stairs  and  told  Mrs.  Clover 
that  her  husband  wished  to  go  into  the  town  on 
business.  She  made  no  objection,  but  asked 
whether  Gammon  would  take  the  responsibility  of 
looking  after  him.  This  he  promised.  Whether 
the  man  would  return  hither  or  not  was  left  uncer- 
tain. 

''  If  he  goes  to  his  own  house,"  said  Gammon, 
*'  I'll  see  him  safe  there  and  let  you  know.  He  lives 
in  the  West  End.  Now  don't  upset  yourself.  If 
he  doesn't  come  back,  you  shall  know  where  he  is, 
and  if  you  want  to,  you  shall  go  and  see  him.  I 
promise  you  that.     I  know  all   about  him ;  and  so 


THE    husband's   RETURN  2l5 

shall  you  ;  so  just  keep  yourself  quiet.  He'll  have 
to  go  to  bed  and  stay  there ;  any  one  can  see  that. 
If  you  take  my  advice  you'll  let  us  go  out  quietly 
and  not  speak  to  him.  Just  trust  to  me,  Mrs. 
Clover." 

"  Do  you  think  he's  right  in  his  mind  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  he's  very  shaky,  and  ought  to  be  kept 
quiet ;  what  has  he  told  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all.  He  sat  crying  for  an  hour  last 
night,  and  talked  about  the  old  times.  When  I 
asked  questions  he  put  me  off.  And  when  I  went 
into  his  room  this  morning,  he  said  nothing,  except 
that  he  wanted  to  see  you,  and  that  he  must  have 
some  brandy  for  his  cold." 

"  All  right.  Let  us  leave  the  house  quietly,  and 
I'll  see  you  again  to-day  or  to-morrow. — Oh,  I  say  ; 
has  a  man  called  Greenacre  been  here  at  any  time  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  any  one  of  that  name,"  answered 
Mrs.  Clover,  as  she  turned  distressfully  away. 

A  cab  was  summoned,  and  Gammon,  having 
helped  the  sick  man  to  clothe  himself  warmly  in 
overcoat  and  mufBer,  led  him  from  the  house.  They 
drove  straight  to  Lowndes  Mansions. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

HIS  lordship's  will 

The  movement  of  the  vehicle  made  Lord  Polperro 
drowsy.  In  ten  minutes  he  seemed  to  be  asleep, 
and  Gammon  had  to  catch  his  hat  as  it  was  falling 
forward.  When  the  four-wheeler  jolted  more  than 
usual,  he  uttered  groans  ;  once  he  shouted  loudly, 
and  for  a  moment  stared  about  him  in  terror.  The 
man  of  commerce  had  never  made  so  unpleasant  a 
journey  in  his  life. 

On  arriving  at  their  destination,  it  was  with  much 

difficulty   that    Gammon    aroused    his    companion, 

and  with  still  more  that  he  conveyed  him  from  the 

cab  into  the  building  ;  a  house  porter  (who  smiled 

significantly)  assisting  in  the  job.     Lord  Polperro, 

when  thoroughly  awakened,  coughed,  groaned  and 

gasped  in  a  most  alarming  way.      His  flat  was  on 

the  first  floor ;  before  reaching  it,  he  began  to  shed 

tears,  and  to  beg  that  his  medical   man  might  be 

summoned  immediately.     The  door  was  opened  by  a 

middle-aged  woman  dressed  as  a  housekeeper,  who 

viewed  his  lordship  with   no  great   concern.     She 

promised  to  send  a  messenger  to  the  doctor's,  and 
216 


HIS   LORDSHIP'S   WILL  2l7 

left  the  two  men  alone  in  a  room  comfortably 
furnished,  but  without  elegance  or  expensiveness. 
Gammon  waited  upon  the  invalid,  placed  him  at 
ease  by  the  fireside,  and  reached  him  a  cellaret  from 
a  cupboard  full  of  various  liquors.  A  few  draughts 
of  a  restorative  enabled  Lord  Polperro  to  articulate, 
arid  he  inquired  if  any  letters  had  arrived  for  him. 

"  Look  on  the  writing-table,  Greenacre.  Any- 
thing there  ?  " 

There  were  two  letters.  The  invalid  examined 
then  with  disappointment  and  tossed  them  aside. 

"  Beggars  and  blackmailers,"  he  muttered.  "  No- 
body else  writes  to  tney 

Of  a  sudden  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  for- 
getting the  duties  of  hospitality.  He  urged  his 
guest  to  take  refreshment ;  he  roused  himself,  went 
to  the  cupboard,  brought  out  half  a  dozen  kinds  of 
beverage. 

"  And  of  course  you  will  lunch  with  me.  Or — 
will  it  be  dinner?  Yes,  yes,  luncheon,  of  course. 
Excuse  me  for  one  moment ;  I  must  give  some 
orders." 

He  left  the  room.  Gammon  having  tossed  off  a 
glass  of  wine,  surveyed  the  objects  about  him  with 
curiosity.  An  observer  of  more  education  would 
have  glanced  with  peculiar  interest  at  the  books; 
several  volumes  lay  on  the  table,  one  of  them  a  re- 
cent work  on  Gipsies,  another  dealing  with  the  an- 
tiquities of  Cornwall.  For  the  town  traveller  these 
things  of  course  had  no  significance.      But  he  r©- 


2l8  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

marked  a  painting  on  the  wall  which  was  probably  a 
portrait  of  one  of  Lord  Polperro's  ancestors;  a 
youngish  man,  (the  Trefoyle  nose  not  to  be  mis- 
taken) in  a  strange,  wild  costume ;  his  head  bare 
under  a  sky  blackening  to  storm  ;  in  his  hand  a  sort 
of  hunting  knife,  and  one  of  his  feet  resting  on  a 
dead  wolf.  When  his  host  reappeared  Gammon 
asked  himw  horn  the  picture  represented. 

"  That  ?  That's  my  father — years  before  I  was 
born.  They  tell  me  that  he  used  to  say  that  in  his 
life  he  had  only  done  one  thing  to  be  proud  of.  It 
was  in  some  part  of  Russia.  He  killed  a  wolf  at 
close  quarters — only  a  knife  to  fight  with.  He  was 
a  fine  man,  my  father.     Looks  it,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

Thirst  was  upon  him  again ;  he  drank  the  first 
liquor  that  came  to  hand,  then  sat  down  and  was 
silent. 

"You  feel  better?"  said  Gammon. 

"  Better  ?  Oh,  thanks,  much  the  same.  I  shan't 
be  better  till  things  are  settled.  That  won't  be  long. 
I  expected  to  hear  from  Greenacre — I  think  you 
said  you  knew  Greenacre.?" 

"  What  is  he  doing  for  you  ?  "  Gammon  inquired, 
thinking  he  might  as  well  take  advantage  of  this 
lucid  moment,  the  result,  seemingly,  of  alcoholic 
stimulation. 

"  Doing  ?— We'll  talk  of  that  presently.  Mind 
you,  I  have  complete  confidence  in  Greenacre.  I 
regret  that  I  didn't  know  him  long  ago."  He  sighed 
ajad  began  to  wander.     "  My  best  years  gone— gone  ! 


HIS  lordship's  will  219 

You  remember  what  I  was,  Gammon  ?  We  don't 
live  like  other  people ;  something  wrong  in  our 
blood  ;  we  go  down — down.  But  if  I  had  lived  as 
I  was,  and  let  the  cursed  title  alone !  That  was  my 
mistake,  Greenacre.  I  had  found  happiness — a 
good  wife.  You  know  my  wife  ?  What  am  I  say- 
ing ?  Of  course  you  do.  Never  an  unkind  word 
from  her — never  one.  How  many  men  can  say  that  ? 
The  best  woman  living,  Greenacre." 

"  You  keep  forgetting  who  I  am,"  said  his  guest 
bluntly. 

Lord  Polperro  gave  him  a  look  of  surprise,  and 
with  effort  cleared  his  thoughts. 

"  Ah — I  called  you  Greenacre — excuse  me  ? 
Gammon — my  wife's  friend.  Be  her  friend  still ;  a 
better  woman  doesn't  live,  believe  me.  You  will 
lunch  with  me,  Gammon.  We  are  to  have  along  talk. 
And  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  my  solicitors  ?  I 
must  settle  that  to-day.  I  thought  Greenacre  would 
be  back.  The  fact  is,  you  know,  I  must  recover  my 
health.  The  south  of  Europe,  Greenacre  thinks, 
and  I  agree  with  him.  A  place  where  we  can  live 
quietly — my  wife  and  the  little  girl ;  no  one  to 
bother  us,  or  to  gossip.  She  shall  know  when  we 
get  there — not  before.  This  climate  is  bad  for  me  ; 
killing  me,  in  fact  I  hope  to  start  in  a  few  days  ; 
just  us  three  ;  I  and  my  wife  and  the  little  girl.  She 
shall  use  the  title  if  she  likes  ;  if  not,  we'll  leave  it 
behind  us.  Ah,  that  was  my  misfortune,  you  know. 
It  oughtn't  to  have  come  to  me." 


220  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

He  was  seized  with  a  hiccough,  which  in  a  few 
moments  became  so  violent  that  he  had  to  abandon 
the  attempt  to  converse.  When  it  had  lasted  for  half 
an  hour,  Gammon  found  his  position  intolerable  ;  he 
rose,  meaning  to  leave  the  room  and  speak  to  the 
housekeeper ;  but  just  then  the  door  opened  to 
admit  Lord  Polperro's  medical  attendant.  This 
gentleman,  after  a  glance  at  the  patient,  who  was 
not  aware  of  his  presence,  put  a  few  questions  to 
Gammon.  The  latter  then  withdrew,  quietly,  went 
out  from  the  flat,  and  down  into  the  street,  where 
the  doctor's  carriage  stood  waiting.  He  was  be- 
wildered with  novelty  of  experience,  felt  thoroughly 
out  of  his  element,  and  would  have  liked  to  have 
escaped  from  these  complications  by  simply  taking 
a  cab  to  Norton  Folgate,  and  forgetting  all  he  left 
behind.  But  his  promise,  to  Mrs  Clover  (or  Lady 
Polperro)  forbade  this.  He  was  very  curious  as 
to  the  proceedings  of  that  mysterious  fellow  Green- 
acre,  who,  as  likely  as  not,  had  got  Lord  Polperro 
into  his  power  for  rascally  purposes.  What  was 
that  half-heard  allusion  to  another  wife — who  might 
be  alive  or  dead  ?  Nothing  to  cause  astonishment, 
assuredly  ;  but  the  matter  ought  to  be  cleared  up. 

He  crossed  the  street,  and  walked  up  and  down, 
keeping  his  eye  on  Lowndes  Mansions.  Before 
long  the  doctor  came  out  and  drove  away.  After 
much  indecision  Gammon  again  entered  and  knocked 
at  the  door  of  his  noble  friend.  The  housekeeper 
said  that  Lord  Polperro  was   asking  for  him  impa- 


HIS   lordship's   will  221 

tiently.      But  when  he   entered   the   sitting-room, 
there  lay  his  lordship  on  the  sofa  fast  asleep. 

The  sleep  lasted  for  a  couple  of  hours,  during 
which  Gammon  sat  in  the  room,  bearing  tedium  as 
best  he  could.  He  was  afraid  to  go  away,  lest  an 
opportunity  of  learning  something  important  should 
be  lost ;  but  never  had  time  passed  so  slowly.  Some 
neglect  of  business  was  involved,  but  fortunately  he 
had  no  appointment  that  could  not  be  postponed. 
As  he  said  to  himself,  it  was  better  to  "  see  the 
thing  through,  "  and  to  make  the  most  of  Greenacre's 
absence. 

When  Lord  Polperro  at  length  awoke,  he  had 
command  of  his  intellect  (such  as  remained  to  him) 
but  groaned  in  severe  pain.  His  first  inquiry  was 
whether  any  letter  or  telegram  had  arrived ;  as- 
sured that  there  was  nothing,  he  tottered  about  the 
room  for  a  few  minutes,  then  declared  that  he  must 
go  to  bed. 

"  I  always  feel  better  in  the  evening,  Gammon. 
You'll  excuse  me,  I  know  ;  we  are  old  friends.  I 
must  see  you  again  to-day  ;  you'll  promise  to  come 
back?  Oh,  how  ill  I  am  !  I  don't  think  this  can  go 
on  much  longer," 

"  What  did  the  doctor  tell  you  to  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing,"  was  the  irritable  reply. 
"  Of  course  I  must  get  away  as  soon  as  possible. 
If  only  I  could  hear  from  Greenacre." 

Seeing  there  was  no  likelihood  of  the  man's  leav- 
ing home   for  the  next  few  hours,   Gammon  prom- 


222  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

ised  to  return  in  the  afternoon,  and  so  took  his 
leave.  On  the  stairs  he  passed  two  ladies,  who,  as 
he  learnt  in  a  moment  by  the  sound  of  their  knock 
above,  were  making  a  call  upon  the  invalid.  In  the 
street  stood  their  carriage.  He  watched  it  for  some 
time  from  the  other  side  of  the  way  until  the  ladies 
came  forth  again.  It  would  have  soothed  Gammon's 
mind  could  he  have  known  that  they  were  Lord 
Polperro's  sister  and  his  niece. 

Just  as  the  brief  daylight  was  flickering  out  (the  air 
had  begun  to  nip  with  a  threat  of  frost)  he  once 
more  presented  himself  at  Lowndes  Mansions.  In 
the  meantime  he  had  seen  Polly  Sparkes,  informed 
her  of  what  was  happening,  and  received  her  prom- 
ise that  she  would  take  no  step  until  he  could 
communicate  with  her  again.  This  interview  re- 
vived his  spirits ;  he  felt  equal  to  another  effort 
such  as  that  of  the  morning — which  had  taxed  him 
more  than  the  hardest  day's  work  he  was  ever 
called  upon  to  do. 

Lord  Polperro  again  sat  by  the  fireside  with  a 
decanter  and  glass  within  his  reach.  He  was  evi- 
dently more  at  ease,  but  seemed  to  have  a  difficulty 
in  recognising  his  visitor. 

"Have  you  come  from  Greenacre?"  he  asked 
cautiously,  peering  through  the  dull  light. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  him." 

"  No  ? — I  cannot  understand  why  I  have  no  news 
from  him. — Pray  sit  down ;  let  me  see  : — we  were 
talking  about — ** 


HIS    LORDSHIP'S   WILL  223 

Presently  he  shook  his  recollections  into  order 
and  when  a  lamp  was  brought  in  he  began  to  talk 
lucidly. 

"  Gammon,  I  feel  very  uneasy  in  my  mind.  This 
morning  I  quite  intended  to  have  gone  to  see  Cuth- 
bertson  ;  but  I  was  taken  ill,  you  know.  What  is 
the  time?  I  wonder  whether  Cuthbertson  is  likely 
to  be  at  his  office  still?" 

"That's  your  lawyer,  isn't  it?  Would  you  like 
me  to  go  and  try  to  get  hold  of  him  ?  I  might  bring 
him  here." 

"  You  are  very  kind.  Gammon.  For  some  reason, 
I  feel  that  I  really  ought  to  see  him  to-day.  Sup- 
pose we  go  together  ?  " 

"  But  you  oughtn't  to  be  out  at  night,  ought 
you?" 

"  Oh,  I  feel  much  better.  Besides,  we  should  drive, 
you  know — quite  comfortable.  I  really  think  we 
will  go.  Than  you  shall  come  back  and  dine  with 
me.     Yes,  I  think  we  will  go." 

Between  this  decision  and  the  actual  step,  half  an 
hour  was  wasted  in  doubts,  fresh  resolves,  moments 
of  forgetfulness,  and  slow  preparation.  A  messen- 
ger had  been  despatched  for  a  cab,  and  at  length, 
almost  by  force,  Gammon  succeeded  in  getting  his 
lordship  down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the  street. 
They  drove  to  old  Jewry  Chambers.  Throughout 
the  journey  Lord  Polperro  kept  up  a  constant  bab- 
bling which  he  meant  for  impressive  talk;  much  of 
it  was  inaudible  to  his  companion,  from  the  noise  of 


224  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

the  cab,  and  the  sentences  that  could  be  distin- 
guished were  mere  repetitions  of  what  he  had  said 
before  leaving  home — that  he  felt  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  see  Cuthbertson,  and  that  he  could  not 
understand  Greenacre's  silence.  They  reached  the 
solicitor's  office  at  about  half-past  five.  Lord  Pol- 
perro  entered  only  to  return  with  a  face  of  disap- 
pointment. 

"  He  has  gone.  No  one  there  but  a  clerk — no 
use." 

"  Couldn't  you  find  him  at  his  private  address?" 
asked  Gammon. 

"  Private  address  ?  to  be  sure  !  I'll  go  in  again 
and  ask  for  it." 

Mr.  Cuthbertson  lived  at  Streatham. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Lord  Polperro,  whose  mind 
seemed  to  be  invigorated  by  his  activity,  "  we'll 
go  to  Streatham  ;  but  first  of  all  we  must  have  some- 
thing to  eat.  The  fact  is,  I  had  no  lunch  ;  I  begin 
to  feel  rather  faint." 

He  bade  the  cabman  drive  to  any  restaurant  not 
far  away.  There  the  vehicle  was  dismissed  and  they 
sat  down  to  a  meal.  Gammon  as  usual  ate  heartily. 
Lord  Polperro  pretended  to  do  the  same,  but  in 
reality  swallowed  only  a  few  mouthfuls,  and  gave  his 
more  serious  attention  to  the  wine.  Every  few 
minutes  he  assured  his  companion  in  a  whisper  that 
he  would  feel  quite  at  ease  when  he  had  seen  Cuth- 
bertson. 

They  looked  out  the  trains  to  Streatham  and  left 


HIS  lordship's  will  225 

just  in  time  to  catch  one.  On  the  journey  his  lord- 
ship dozed.  He  was  growing  very  husky  again,  and 
the  cough  shook  him  badly  after  each  effort  to  talk. 
So  Gammon  felt  glad  to  see  him  resting.  By  the 
gaslight  in  the  railway  carriage  his  face  appeared 
t6  flush  and  grow  pale  alternately;  at  moments  it 
looked  horribly  cadaverous  with  its  half-open  eyes, 
shrivelled  lips  and  thin,  sharp,  high-ridged  nose.  On 
arriving,  the  man  lost  all  consciousness  of  where  he 
was,  and  what  he  purposed  ;  it  took  many  minutes 
before  Gammon  could  convey  him  into  a  cab  and 
extort  from  him  Mr.  Cuthbertson's  address. 

"  Greenacre,"  his  lordship  kept  repeating,  "  I  trust 
you  implicitly.  I  am  convinced  you  have  my  in- 
terests at  heart.  When  all  is  settled,  I  shall  show 
myself  grateful — believe  me." 

Between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  they  drove  up  to 
a  house  on  Streatham  Hill,  and  without  consulting 
Lord  Polperro,  Gammon  went  to  parley  at  the  door. 
Ill-luck  pursued  them.  Mr.  Cuthbertson  was  dining 
in  town  and  could  not  be  home  till  late.  When  made 
to  understand  this  Lord  Polperro  passed  from  leth- 
argy to  violent  agitation. 

"  We  must  go  back  at  once,"  he  exclaimed.  "  To 
Lowndes  Mansions  at  once  !  Greenacre,  tell  him  to 
drive  straight  to  Sloane  Street.  You  don't  know 
what  depends  upon  it.  We  must  lose  not  a  mo- 
ment." 

The  cabman  consented,  and  the  return  journey 
began   at   a  good  speed.     When  Gammon,  out  of 
15 


226  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

regard  for  the  invalid's  condition,  insisted  on  having 
the  window  of  the  hansom  dropped,  Lord  Polperro 
grumbled  and  lamented.  The  cool  air  did  him  good, 
he  was  beginning  to  breathe  more  easily  than  he 
had  done  for  a  long  time. 

"  You  are  too  imperious  with  me,  Greenacre.  I 
have  noticed  it  in  you  before.  You  take  too  much 
upon  yourself." 

"  I  suppose  it's  no  use  telling  you  once  more,'* 
said  his  companion,  "  that  my  name  isn't  Greenacre." 

"  Dear  me !  Dear  me !  I  beg  your  pardon  a 
thousand  times.  I  meant  to  say  Gammon — I  can't 
tell  you.  Gammon,  how  much  I  feel  your  kindness. 
But  for  you,  I  should  never  have  managed  all  this 
in  my  state  of  health.  You  don't  mind  coming 
home  with  me?  " 

"  Of  course  not.  What  are  you  going  to  do  when 
you  get  there  ?  " 

"  I  told  you,  my  dear  Gammon.  It  shall  be  done 
this  very  night,  whether  I  have  news  or  not.  I  shall 
see  Cuthbertson  the  first  thing  to-morrow  and  get 
him  to  draw  the  deed  of  gift.  That  settles  every- 
thing; no  gossip,  no  scandal,  if  anything  should 
happen.  Life  is  so  uncertain,  and,  as  you  see,  I 
am  in  anything  but  robust  health.  Yes,  it  shall  be 
done  this  very  night." 

Tired  of  futile  questioning.  Gammon  resolved  to 
wait  and  see  what  was  done ;  though  it  seemed  to 
him  more  than  likely  that  nothing  at  all  would  come 
of  these  vehement  expressions.     At  all  events,  Lord 


HIS  lordship's  will  227 

Polperro  was  now  wide  awake,  and  seemed  in  no 
danger  of  relapsing  into  the  semi-comatose  or  semi- 
delirious  condition.  He  no  longer  addressed  his 
companion  by  the  name  of  Greenacre ;  his  talk  was 
marked  with  a  rational  reserve ;  he  watched  the 
course  of  their  drive  along  the  highways  of  South 
London  and  showed  satisfaction  as  they  approached 
his  own  district. 

The  cabman  was  paid  with  careless  liberality,  and 
Lord  Polperro  ran  up  the  stairs  to  his  flat.  More 
strictly  speaking,  he  ran  for  a  few  yards,  when  breath 
failed  him,  and  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  stagger  with 
loud  pantings  up  the  rest  of  the  ascent.  Arrived  in 
his  sitting-room,  he  sank  exhausted  on  to  the  nearest 
chair.  Gammon  saw  that  he  pointed  feebly  to  the 
liquor  cupboard,  and  heard  a  gasp  that  sounded  like 
♦'  Brandy." 

"  Better  not,"  replied  the  clear-headed  man.  "  I 
wouldn't  if  I  were  you." 

But  his  lordship  insisted,  looking  reproachfully, 
and  the  brandy  was  produced.  It  did  him  good  ; 
that  is  to  say,  it  brought  colour  to  his  face,  and  en- 
abled him  to  sit  upright.  No  sooner  was  he  thus 
recovered,  than  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  envelope  of  a 
telegram  which  lay  on  his  writing-table. 

"There  it  is!     At  last !  " 

He  tore  the  paper,  all  but  sobbing  with  agony  of 
impatience. 

"  Good  God  !  I  cant  see  it !  I've  gone  half  blind 
all  at  once.     Read  it  for  me,  Gammon." 


228  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  Hope  see  you  to-night.  Important  news.  If 
not  in  morning. — Greenacre." 

"  Where  did  he  send  it  from  ?  " 

"  Euston,  six  o'clock." 

"  Then  he  came  by  the  Irish  day-mail.  Why  didn't 
I  think  of  that,  and  meet  the  train  ?  What  does  he 
mean  by  to-night  or  to-morrow  morning?  What 
does  he  mean  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  replied  Gammon.  "  Perhaps  he 
has  called  here  while  you  were  away." 

Lord  Polperro  rang  the  bell,  only  to  find  that  no 
one  had  asked  for  him.  He  was  in  a  state  of  pitiable 
agitation ;  kept  shuffling  about  the  room,  with 
coughs  and  gasps,  demanding  ceaselessly  why  Green- 
acre  left  the  hour  of  his  appearance  uncertain.  Gam- 
mon, scarcely  less  excited  in  his  own  way,  shouted 
assurances  that  the  fellow  might  turn  up  at  any 
moment.  It  was  not  yet  ten  o'clock.  Why  not  sit 
down  and  wait  quietly  ? 

"  I  will,"  said  the  other.  "  I  will — thank  you, 
Gammon.  I  will  sit  down  and  wait.  But  I  cannot 
conceive  why  he  didn't  come  straight  here  from 
Euston.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  he  has  been  to  Ire- 
land for  me,  on  business  of  the  gravest  importance. 
I  am  not  impatient  without  cause. — I  trust  Greenacre 
implicitly.  He  had  a  gentleman's  education.  I  am 
convinced  he  could  not  deceive  me." 

More  brandy  helped  him  to  surmount  this  crisis  ; 
then  he  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.     Gammon 


HIS  lordship's  will  229 

thought  he  had  begun  to  doze  again,  but  of  a  sudden 
he  spoke  distinctly  and  earnestly. 

"  I  am  forgetting.  You  remember  what  I  had 
decided  to  do.  It  shall  be  done  at  once,  Gammon. 
I  know  it  will  relieve  my  mind." 

He  rose,  went  to  the  writing-table,  unlocked  a 
drawer,  and  took  out  a  large  sealed  envelope,  on 
which  something  was  written. 

"  Gammon,  you  are  witness  of  what  I  now  do. 
This  is  my  will,  executed  about  a  year  ago.  I  have 
reasons  for  wishing  to  dispose  of  my  property  in 
another  way.  Cuthbertson  will  see  to  that  for  me 
to-morrow.  A  will  becomes  public  ;  I  did  not  think 
of  that  at  the  time.     There  !  " 

He  threw  the  sealed  packet  into  the  fire,  where  it 
was  quickly  caught  by  the  flames  and  consumed. 

"  Now  I  feel  easier  in  mind — much  easier." 

He  drank  from  the  replenished  glass,  smiling  and 
nodding. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

NEW     year's     eve 

Gammon  had  the  strangest  sensation.  He  felt  as 
though  he  were  acting  in  a  melodrama  ;  he  stood  in 
a  constrained  position,  as  if  the  eyes  of  the  house 
were  upon  him  ;  he  suffered  from  a  sort  of  stage- 
fright.  Much  more  of  this  kind  of  thing  would 
assuredly  unsettle  his  wits.  To  recover  tone,  he 
helped  himself  to  a  stiff  glass  of  whisky. 

"  That's  right,"  said  his  host,  encouragingly. 
"  Make  yourself  comfortable.  Greenacre  may  drop 
in  at  any  moment.  You  can't  think  how  much 
better  I  feel,  Gammon.  So  clear  in  the  mind,  you 
know — why,  it  has  only  just  occurred  to  me  ;  this 
is  New  Year's  Eve." 

•'  So  it  is.  Here's  to  your  health  and  happiness. 
Lord  Polperro  ! " 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  Gammon.  I  heartily  wish 
you  the  same.  To-morrow,  or  at  all  events  in  a  few 
days,  a  new  life  begins  for  me — as  you  know.  In 
the  climate  of  the  south  of  Europe,  with  my  wife  and 
the  little  girl—    Ah!  butforthisidiotictitle!— I  was 

saying — " 
230 


NEW   year's   eve  231 

He  began  to  wander  unintelligibly ;  then  com- 
plained of  physical  sufferings  ;  then  coughed  until  he 
sank  in  exhaustion. 

Time  went  on.  Gammon  began  to  ask  himself 
how  long  he  should  wait.  At  half-past  ten,  he  made 
a  suggestion  that  his  lordship  might  do  worse  than 
go  to  bed,  but  this  was  ill-received. 

"  By  no  means,  Greenacre  may  be  here  at  any 
moment.  He  will  certainly  come  to-night.  If  he 
doesn't  come — do  you  know  what  occurs  to  me? 
Why  shouldn't  we  drive  into  the  City,  and  ask 
whether  he  has  returned  ?  " 

"Ask  where?" 

"  He  lives  at  a  place — a  sort  of  hotel — which  he 
calls  the  Bilboes.  Greenacre  is  eccentric — but 
thoroughly  trustworthy  ;  he  had  a  gentleman's  edu- 
cation." 

"  He  lives  there,  does  he  ?  "  exclaimed  Gammon. 

"  Finds  it  convenient,  I  suppose.  Yes,  we  will  go 
and  enquire ;  we  certainly  will." 

Gammon's  objections  were  unheeded.  No  one 
could  take  any  harm,  said  Lord  Polperro,  from 
driving  in  a  closed  cab  to  the  City  and  back.  He 
would  leave  directions  that  if  Greenacre  called  dur- 
ing their  absence,  he  should  be  asked  to  wait ; 
so  they  made  ready  and  went  forth  ;  and  once 
more  a  hansom  bore  them  through  the  dark,  cold 
night. 

Lord  Polperro  talked  unceasingly,  and  from  his 
rambling  hints  it  was  not  difficult  to  conjecture  the 


232  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

business  on  which  Greenacre  had  been  despatched 
to  Ireland.  Some  one  had  to  be  discovered ;  a 
doubt  as  to  whether  some  person  was  alive  or  dead 
had  to  be  set  at  rest.  Gammon  ventured  a  few 
questions,  which  were  answered  evasively ;  but  the 
nature  of  his  companion's  anxiety  was  by  this  time 
clear  enough  to  him.  He  felt  quite  as  desirous  of 
meeting  Greenacre  as  Lord  Polperro  himself.  Every 
hour  spent  in  this  way  added  to  his  responsibility  ; 
and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  at  the  earliest 
possible  moment  to-morrow  he  would  himself  see 
Mr.  Cuthbertson,  and  confide  to  him  everything 
that  had  happened  during  this  extraordinary  day. 

As  the  cab  ascended  Ludgate  Hill,  it  passed 
through  crowds  of  people  moving  in  the  same  di- 
rection. Gammon  was  for  a  moment  surprised ; 
then  he  called  to  mind  again  that  it  was  New  Year's 
Eve ;  the  people  were  thronging  to  hear  St.  Paul's 
strike  the  hour  of  midnight.  Last  year  he  had  him- 
self joined  in  this  celebration  ;  he  remembered  with 
a  smile  that  he  reached  home  by  circuitous  routes, 
and  after  one  or  two  short  intervals  of  repose  on 
convenient  doorsteps.  What  was  more,  on  that 
very  night  he  had  first  made  Greenacre's  acquaint- 
ance— at  a  bar  ;  they  swore  eternal  brotherhood,  and 
Greenacre  borrowed  half  a  sovereign,  never  repaid. 

With  Gammon's  help,  the  cabman  found  his  way 
to  the  Bilboes. 

"  Don't  get  out,"  he  said  to  his  companion  "  I'll 
ask  if  he  has  come." 


NEW   year's   eve  233 

Lord  Polperro  suddenly  aroused  himself  and 
tumbled  out  of  the  vehicle  ;  but  for  Gammon's  at- 
tention he  would  have  fallen  full  length.  They  en- 
tered together,  and  by  a  confused  process  of  inquiry 
learnt  that  Greenacre  was  still  absent. 
.  "  Does  he  live  here  ?  "  Gammon  asked  of  a  waiter 
whom  he  had  drawn  aside. 

"  He  has  a  bedroom,  sir." 

Lord  Polperro  said  that  he  felt  a  sudden  faintness 
and  must  take  refreshment.  Having  drunk,  he  be- 
gan to  talk  in  a  loud  voice  about  his  private  affairs, 
addressing  a  stranger  who  sat  by  him  and  whom  he 
took  for  Gammon. 

"  I  shall  stay  here.  I  shall  certainly  wait  here 
for  Greenacre.  I  can't  run  the  risk  of  missing  him  to- 
night." 

Gammon  caught  him  by  the  arm  and  persuaded 
him  to  come  out  into  the  passage;  but  the  only  re- 
sult of  this  was  that  Lord  Polperro  dismissed  the 
cab,  repeating  obstinately  that  he  would  wait  Green- 
acre's  arrival. 

"  But  ten  to  one  he's  waiting  for  z^^down  yonder," 
urged  Gammon. 

"  He  won't  wait  very  long  and  we  shall  pass  him 
on  the  road  if  we  go  back  now.  I  tell  you  it  is  my 
pleasure  to  remain  here  !  You  forget  yourself,  Gam- 
mon. I  know  we  are  old  friends,  but  you  forget 
our  positions." 

The  man  of  commerce  laughed  contemptuously. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said  the  next  moment,     "  Let's 


234  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

walk  as  far  as   St  Paul's,  and  have  a  look  at  the 
crowd." 

"  The  crowd  ?     What  crowd  ?  " 

When  he  had  heard  the  explanation,  his  lordship 
readily  assented.  Certainly;  they  would  stroll  as 
far  as  St.  Paul's  and  back  again ;  by  that  time 
Greenacre  might  have  come.  It  was  probable  that 
when  they  had  gone  a  little  distance  Lord  Polperro 
would  feel  shaky  and  consent  to  take  a  cab.  Drink, 
however,  had  invigorated  the  man ;  he  reeled  a 
little  and  talked  very  huskily,  but  declared  that  the 
walk  was  enjoyable. 

"  Let's  go  into  the  crowd,  Gammon.  I  like  a 
crowd —  What  are  those  bells  ringing  for  ? — yes,  yes, 
of  course,  I  remember.  New  Year's  Eve.  I  had  no 
idea  that  people  came  here  to  see  the  New  Year  in. 
I  shall  come  again  ;  I  shall  come  every  year ;  it's 
most  enjoyable." 

They  entered  the  Churchyard,  and  were  soon 
amid  a  noisy,  hustling  throng;  an  assembly  com- 
posed of  clerks  and  countermen,  roughs  and  pick- 
pockets, with  a  sprinkling  of  well-to-do  rowdies,  and 
numerous  girls  or  women,  whose  shrieks,  screams 
and  yelps  sounded  above  the  deeper  notes  of  mas- 
culine uproar.  Gammon,  holding  tight  to  his  com- 
panion's arm,  endeavoured  to  pilot  him  in  a  direc- 
tion where  the  crowd  was  thinnest,  still  moving 
westward  ;  but  Lord  Polperro  caught  the  contagion 
of  tumult,  and  began  pressing  vehemently  into  the 
surging  mass. 


NEW  year's   eve  235 

"  This  does  me  good,  Gammon  !  It's  a  long  time 
since  I've  mixed  with  people.  I  always  enjoyed  a 
crowd.     HoUo-o-o  ! " 

His  excited  shout  made  him  cough  terribly  ;  none 
the  less  he  pushed  on, 

•*  You'll  come  to  harm,"  said  the  other.  "  Don't 
be  a  fool ;  get  out  of  this." 

A  struggle  began  between  them ;  but  by  this 
time  they  were  so  thickly  encompassed  that  Gam- 
mon had  small  chance  of  forcing  his  companion 
away.  Lord  Polperro  did  not  resent  the  tugs  at 
his  arm  ;  he  took  it  for  genial  horseplay :  and  only 
shouted  louder. 

"  On  we  go !  This  makes  one  feel  alive,  eh  ? 
Splendid  idea  to  come  and  see  this.     Hollo-o-o  ! " 

Blackguards  in  front  of  him  were  bellowing  a 
filthy  song ;  his  lordship  tried  to  join  in  the  melody. 
A  girl,  who  was  jammed  against  him,  shot  liquid 
into  his  ear  out  of  a  squirt,  and  another  of  her  kind 
knocked  his  hat  off ;  he  struggled  to  recover  it,  but 
some  one  was  beforehand  with  him,  and  sent  the 
silky  headgear  flying  skyward,  after  which  it  was 
tossed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  then  trampled  under- 
foot. 

"  Now  you'll  catch  your  bloomin'  death  of  cold," 
said  Gammon.  "  Stick  on  to  me,  and  get  out  of 
this." 

"I'm  all  right!  Leave  me  alone,  can't  you  !  How 
often  have  I  a  damned  chance  of  enjoying  myself  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  syllable  of  bad  language  that  Gam- 


236  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

mon  had  heard  from  Polperro's  lips.  Struck  with 
this  fact,  and  all  the  more  conscious  of  his  duty  to 
this  high-born  madman,  he  hit  on  a  device  for  rescu- 
ing him  from  the  crowd. 

"  Look !  "  he  cried  suddenly.  "  There's  Green- 
acre  ! " 

"Where?"  replied  the  other,  all  eagerness. 

"  Just  in  front.  Don't  you  see  him  ? — This  way. 
Come  along  or  we  shall  lose  him." 

Flecks  of  dim  white  had  for  some  minutes  been 
visible  above  their  heads  ;  it  was  beginning  to  snow. 
Gammon  shouldered  his  way  steadily,  careful  not 
to  come  into  quarrelsome  conflict.  Polperro  hung  on 
behind,  shouting  Greenacre's  name.  This  clamour, 
and  the  loss  of  his  hat,  drew  attention  upon  him  ; 
he  was  a  mark  for  squirts  and  missiles,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  verbal  insult.  St.  Paul's  struck  the  first  note 
of  twelve,  and  from  all  the,  bestial  mob  arose  a  howl 
and  roar.  Polperro  happened  to  press  against  a 
drunken  woman ;  she  caught  him  by  his  flying  hair 
and  tugged  at  it,  yelling  into  his  face.  To  release 
himself,  he  bent  forward,  pushing  the  woman  away ; 
the  result  was  a  violent  blow  from  her  fist,  after 
which  she  raised  a  shriek,  as  if  of  pain  and  terror ; 
instantly  a  man  sprang  forward  to  her  defence,  and 
he  too  planted  his  fist  between  the  eyes  of  the  hap- 
less peer.  Gammon  saw  at  once  that  they  were 
involved  in  a  serious  row  ;  the  very  thing  he  had 
been  trying  to  avoid.  He  would  not  desert  his 
friend,  and  was  too  plucky  to  see  him  ill-used  without 


NEW  YEAR'S   EVE  237 

reprisals.  The  rough's  blows  were  answered  with  no 
less  vigour  by  the  man  of  commerce. 

"  Hook  it  !  "  shouted  Gammon  to  the  tottering 
Polperro.     "  Get  out  of  it !  " 

The  clock  was  still  striking  ;  and  the  crowd  kept  up 
its  brutal  bellow,  aided  by  shrill  instruments  of  noise. 
Only  a  few  people  heard  Polperro's  shout,  defying 
the  enemy. 

"Let  him  come  on!  Let  him  come  on  like  a 
man  ! — Take  that,  you  rufifian,  and  that !  " 

Gammon,  knowing  the  conflict  grossly  unequal, 
did  not  scruple  to  pursue  his  own  attack.  Polperro, 
svildly  thrashing  about  him  with  both  fists,  excited 
wrath  in  every  direction.  There  was  a  general 
scrimmage;  shouts  of  rage  mingled  with  wild 
laughter ;  the  throng  crushed  this  way  and  that. 
Grappling  in  his  own  defence  with  a  big  brute  who 
had  clutched  his  throat.  Gammon  saw  Polperro  go 
down.  It  was  his  last  glimpse  of  the  unfortunate 
man.  Fighting  savagely,  he  found  himself  borne 
far  away  by  an  irresistible  rush ;  and  when  he  had 
lost  sight  of  his  foe,  he  tried  vainly  to  return  to  the 
place  where  Polperro  had  fallen.  The  police  were 
now  interfering  ;  the  crowd  swayed  more  violently 
than  ever,  and  began  to  scatter  itself  in  off-streets. 

From  church  towers  of  East  and  West  chimes 
rang  merrily  for  the  New  Year.  Softly  fell  the  snow 
from  a  black  sky,  and  was  forthwith  trodden  into 
slush. 

Though  he  was  badly  mauled  and  felt  sick,  Gam- 


238  THE   TOWN  TRAVELLER 

mon  would  not  abandon  the  hope  of  discovering  his 
friend.  After  resting  for  a  few  minutes  against  the 
front  of  a  shop  he  moved  again  into  the  crowd,  now 
much  thinner,  and  soon  to  be  altogether  dispersed. 
The  helmets  of  policemen  drew  him  in  a  certain 
direction  ;  two  constables  were  clearing  the  way, 
and  he  addressed  them,  asking  whether  they  had 
seen  a  bareheaded  man  recently  damaged  in  a  fight. 

"  There's  been  a  disturbance  over  yonder,"  one 
replied  carelessly,  pointing  to  a  spot  whence  other 
helmets  could  be  discerned. 

Thither  Gammon  made  his  way.  He  found  police 
and  public  gathered  thickly  about  some  person  in- 
visible ;  a  vigorous  effort,  and  he  got  near  enough 
to  see  a  recumbent  body,  quite  still,  on  which  the 
flakes  of  snow  were  falling. 

"  Let  me  look  at  him,"  he  requested  of  a  constable 
who  would  have  pushed  him  away.  "  It's  a  friend 
of  mine,  I  believe." 

Yes,  it  was  Lord  Polperro  ;  unconscious  and  with 
blood  about  his  mouth. 

The  police  were  waiting,  as  a  matter  of  professional 
routine,  to  see  whether  he  recovered  his  senses  ; 
they  had  of  course  classed  him  as,  "  drunk  and  in- 
capable." 

"  I  say,"  Gammon  whispered  to  one  of  them, 
"  let  me  tell  you  who  that  is." 

The  conference  led  to  a  summoning  of  a  cab,  which, 
by  police  direction,  was  driven  to  the  nearest  hos- 
pital,  St.  Bartholomew's.      Here    Gammon    soon 


NEW  YEARS   EVE  239 

learnt  that  the  case  was  considered  serious ;  so  se- 
rious that  the  patient  had  been  put  to  bed,  and  must 
there  remain. 

Utterly  done  up,  Gammon  threw  himself  into  the 
cab,  to  be  driven  to  Kennington  Road.  When  he 
reached  Mrs.  Bubb's  he  was  fast  asleep  ;  but  there 
a  voice  addressed  him  which  restored  his  conscious- 
ness very  quickly  indeed. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HIS     LORDSHIP     RETIRES 

It  was  the  voice  of  Greenacre,  unsteady  with  wrath, 
stripped  utterly  of  its  bland  intonations. 

*'  So  here  you  are  !  What  have  you  been  up  to, 
Gammon  ?     Are  you  drunk?  " 

Just  as  the  cab  drove  up,  Greenacre  was  turning 
reluctantly  from  the  house-door,  where  he  had  held 
a  warm  parley  with  Mrs.  Bubb ;  the  landlady  irri- 
table at  being  disturbed  in  her  first  sleep  ;  the  un- 
timely visitor  much  ruffled  in  temper  by  various 
causes. 

"  Drunk ! "  echoed  Gammon,  as  he  leapt  to  the 
pavement  and  clutched  at  Greenacre's  arm,  "  drunk 
yourself,  more  likely  !  Where  have  you  been  since 
you  sent  that  telegram  ? — Hold  on  a  minute."  He 
paid  the  cabman.  "  Now,  then,  give  an  account  of 
yourself." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  the  other. 
"  What  account  do  I  owe  to  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  might  answer  i/iat  question,"  said  Gam- 
mon, with  a  grin,  "  if  I  took  time  to  calculate." 

"  We  can't  talk  in  the  street  at  this  time  of  night, 
240 


HIS    LORDSHIP    RETIRES  241 

with  snow  coming  down.  Suppose  we  go  up  to 
your  room  ?  " 

"  As  you  please.  But  I  advise  you  to  talk  quietly  ; 
the  walls  and  the  floors  are  not  over  thick." 

The  latch-key  admitted  them,  and  they  went  on 
.softly  as  possible  up  the  stairs  ;  only  one  involun- 
tary kick  from  Greenacre  on  sounding  wood  causing 
his  host  to  mutter  a  malediction.  By  a  light  in  the 
bed  room  they  viewed  each  other,  and  Greenacre 
showed  astonishment. 

"  So  you  are  drunk — or  have  been  !  You've  got 
a  black  eye,  and  your  clothes  are  all  pulled  about. 
You've  been  in  a  row." 

"  You're  not  far  wrong.  Tell  me  what  yotive  been 
doing,  and  you  shall  hear  where  the  row  was  and 
who  was  with  me." 

"  Gammon,  you've  been  behaving  like  a  cad — a 
scoundrel.  I  didn't  think  it  of  you.  You  went  to 
that  place  in  Sloane  Street.  No  use  lying;  I've 
been  told  you  were  there.  You  must  have  found 
out  I  was  going  away,  and  you've  played  old  Harry. 
I  didn't  think  you  were  a  fellow  of  that  sort ;  I  had 
more  faith  in  you." 

Upon  mutual  recrimination  followed  an  exchange 

of  narratives.     Greenacre's  came  first.     He  was  the 

victim,  he  declared,  of  such  ill  luck  as  rarely  befell 

a  man.     Arriving  at  Euston  by  the  Irish  mail,  and 

hastening  to  get  a  cab,  whom  should  he  encounter 

on  the  very  platform  but  a  base-minded  ruffian  who 

nursed  a  spite  against  him  ;  a  low  fellow  who  had 
16 


242  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

taken  advantage  of  his  good-nature,  and  who — in 
short  a  man  from  whom  it  was  impossible  to  escape, 
for  several  good  reasons,  until  they  had  spent  some 
hours  together.  He  got  off  a  telegram  to  Lord  Pol- 
perro  and  could  do  no  more  till  nearly  eleven  o'clock 
at  night.  Arriving  headlong  at  Lowndes  Mansions, 
he  learnt  with  disgust  what  had  gone  on  there  in  his 
absence.  And  now,  what  defence  had  Gammon  to 
offer  ?     What  was  his  game  ? 

"  I  guess  pretty  well  what  yours  is,  my  boy," 
answered  the  listener,  "  and  I'm  not  sorry  I've  spoilt 
it." 

Thereupon  he  related  the  singular  train  of  events 
between  breakfast  time  this  (or  rather  yesterday) 
morning  and  the  ringing  out  of  the  Old  Year.  When 
it  came  to  a  description  of  Lord  Polperro's  accident, 
Greenacre  lost  all  control  of  himself. 

"Ass!  Blockhead!  You  know  no  better  than 
to  let  such  a  man  in  his  state  of  health,  get  mixed 
up  in  a  crowd  of  roughs  at  midnight  ?  Good  God  ! 
He  may  die !" 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  a  bit,"  returned  Gammon 
coolly.  "  If  he  does,  it  may  be  awkward  for  you, 
eh?" 

From  his  story  he  had  omitted  one  detail;  think- 
ing it  better  to  keep  silence  about  the  burning  of 
the  will  until  he  learnt  more  than  Greenacre  had  as 
yet  avowed  to  him. 

"  Fool !  "  blustered  the  other.  ''  Idiot !  " 

"  You'd  better  stop  that,  Greenacre  or  I  sha'n't  be 


HIS   LORDSHIP   RETIRES  243 

the  only  man  with  a  black  eye.  Do  you  want  to  be 
kicked  downstairs  ?  Or  would  you  prefer  to  drop 
out  of  the  window  ?  Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your 
head." 

At  this  moment  both  were  startled  into  silence  by 
a  violent  thumping  at  the  wall.  It  came  from  the 
room  which  used  to  be  occupied  by  Polly  Sparkes, 
and  was  accompanied  by  angry  verbal  remonstrance 
from  a  lodger  disturbed  in  his  slumbers. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  ?  "  muttered  Gammont^'  You'd 
better  get  home  and  go  to  bed  ;  the  walk  will  cool 
you  down.  It's  all  up  with  your  little  game  for  the 
present.  Look  here,"  he  added,  in  a  friendly 
whisper,  "  you  may  as  well  tell  me.  Has  he  another 
wife?" 

"  Find  out !  "  was  Greenacre's  surly  answer,  "  and 
go  to  the  devil  !  " 

A  rush,  a  scuffling,  a  crash  somewhere  which  shook 
the  house.  The  disturbed  lodger  flung  open  his  door 
and  shouted  objurgations.  From  below  sounded 
the  shrill  alarm  of  Mrs.  Bubb  ;  from  elsewhere  the 
anxious  outcries  of  Mrs.  Cheeseman  and  her  husband. 
Amid  all  this,  Greenacre  and  his  quondam  friend 
somehow  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where 
the  darkness  that  enveloped  their  struggle  was  all 
at  once  dispersed  by  a  candle  in  the  hand  of  Mrs. 
Bubb. 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself,"  shouted  Gammon,  cheerily 
"  I'm  only  kicking  this  fellow  out.     No  one  hurt ! " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Gammon,  I  do  think—" 


244  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

But  the  landlady's  protest  was  cut  sho/t  by  a  loud 
slamming  of  the  house-door. 

"  It's  nothing,"  said  the  man  of  commerce,  breath, 
ing  hard.  "  Very  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you 
all.  It  sha'n't  happen  again.  Good-night,  Mrs. 
Bubb." 

He  ran  up  to  his  room,  laughed  a  good  deal  as  he 
undressed,  and  was  asleep  in  five  minutes  afterwards. 
Before  closing  his  eyes  he  said  to  himself  that  he 
must  rise  at  seven  ;  business  claimed  him  to-morrow, 
and  he  felt  it  necessary  to  see  Mrs.  Clover  (or  Lady 
P.olperro)  with  the  least  possible  delay.  However 
tired.  Gammon  could  always  wake  at  the  hour  he 
appointed.  The  dark  snowy  morning  found  him 
little  disposed  to  turn  out  ;  he  had  something  of  a 
headache,  and  a  very  bad  taste  in  the  mouth ;  for 
all  that,  he  faced  duty  with  his  accustomed  vigour. 
Of  course  he  had  to  leave  the  house  without  break- 
fast, but  a  cup  of  tea  at  the  nearest  eating-house  sup- 
plied his  immediate  wants,  and  straightway  he  be- 
took himself  to  the  china-shop  near  Battersea  Park 
Road. 

That  was  not  a  pleasant  meeting  with  his  friend 
Mrs.  Clover.  To  describe  all  that  had  happened 
yesterday  would  have  taxed  his  powers  at  any  time  ; 
at  eight-thirty  A.  M.  on  the  first  of  January,  his  head 
aching  and  his  stomach  ill  at  ease,  he  was  not  likely 
to  achieve  much  in  the  way  of  lucid  narrative.  Mrs. 
Clover  regarded  him  with  a  severe  look.  His  mani- 
fest black  eye  and  an  unwonted  slovenliness  of  ap- 


HIS    LORDSHIP    RETIRES  245 

pearance  could  not  but  suggest  that  he  had  taken 
leave  of  the  bygone  year  in  a  too  fervid  spirit.  His 
explanations  she  found  difificulty  in  believing  ;  but 
the  upshot  of  it  all,  the  fact  that  her  husband  lay  at 
St,  Bartholomew's  Hospital,  seemed  beyond  doubt, 
aTid  this  it  was  that  mainly  concerned  her. 

"  I  shall  go  at  once,"  she  said  in  a  hard  tone,  turn- 
ing her  face  from  him. 

"  But  there's  something  else  I  must  tell  you," 
pursued  Gammon,  with  much  awkwardness.  "You 
don't  know — who  to  ask  for." 

The  woman's  eyes,  even  now  not  in  their  depths 
unkindly,  searched  him  with  a  startled  expres- 
sion. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  ask  for  Mr.  Clover  ?  " 

"  They  w^ouldn't  know  who  you  meant.  That  isn't 
his  real  name." 

A  cry  escaped  her;  she  turned  pale. 

"  Not  his  real  name?  I  thought  it — I  was  afraid 
of  that !  Who  am  I,  then  ?  What — what  have  I  a 
right  to  call  myself?" 

With  a  glance  to  the  door  of  the  sitting-room, — 
nervousness  bringing  the  sweat  to  his  forehead, — 
Gammon  told  what  he  knew  ;  all  except  the  burning 
of  the  will  and  the  fact  of  Greenacre's  mission  to 
Ireland.  The  listener  was  at  first  sight  utterly  be- 
wildered, looked  incredulous,  and  only  when  certain 
details  had  been  repeated  and  emphasised  began  to 
grasp  the  reality  of  what  she  heard. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  at  length,  in  profound  agi- 


246  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

tation,  "  that  explains  so  many  things !  I  never 
thought  of  this,  but  I've  often  wondered.  I  under- 
stand now." 

She  paused,  struggh'ng  to  control  herself.  Then 
not  without  dignity,  in  the  tone  and  with  the  face 
that  are  natural  at  such  moments  only  to  a  woman 
here  and  there,  the  nobler  of  her  sex,  she  added  : 

"  I  can't  go  to  the  hospital.  Some  one  else  must 
tell  me  about  him.     I  can't  go." 

"I  shall  have  time  to  call  on  my  way,"  said  Gam- 
mon, "  and  I  could  send  you  a  wire."' 

"  Will  you  ?— I  cant  go  !  " 

She  sobbed,  but  quietly,  hiding  her  face  in  her 
hands.  Gammon,  more  distressed  by  her  emotion 
than  he  had  ever  felt  at  the  sight  of  a  woman  weep- 
ing, did  his  clumsy  best  to  solace  her.  He  would 
call  at  the  hospital  straight  away,  and  telegraph  the 
news  as  soon  as  possible.  And  anything  else  he 
could  learn  about  Lord  Polperro  should  be  made 
known  to  her  without  delay.  He  wrote  on  a  piece 
of  paper  the  address  in  Sloane  Street,  and  that  of 
the  house  in  Stanhope  Gardens.  On  the  point  of 
departure,  something  occurred  to  him  that  it  was 
wise  to  say. 

"  I  shouldn't  do  anything  just  yet !  "  He  looked 
at  her  impressively.  "  In  your  position,  I  should 
just  wait  a  little.  I'm  sure  it  would  be  better,  and 
I  may  be  able  to  give  you  a  reason  before  long." 

She  nodded. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing — nothing." 


HIS   LORDSHIP   RETIRES  247 

'•  That's  best,I  assure  you.  You're  not  angry  with 
me  ?    You'll  shake  hands  ?  " 

She  gave  him  her  hand ;  withdrew  it  quickly ; 
turned  to  hide  her  face  again.  And  Gammon  hast- 
ened Citywards. 

A  telegram  came  from  him  in  little  more  than  an 
hour.  It  reported  that  the  patient  was  still  uncon- 
scious and  dangerously  ill. 

When,  later  in  the  afternoon,  Gammon  went  to  the 
hospital  to  make  another  inquiry,  he  learnt  that 
Lord  Polperro  was  dead. 

Turning  away,  debating  whether  to  send  the 
widow  a  telegram,  or  to  break  the  news  by  word  of 
mouth,  he  saw  a  cab  drive  up,  out  of  which  jumped 
Mr.  Greenacre.  Their  eyes  met,  but  they  exchanged 
no  sign  of  recognition.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he 
walked  a  dozen  yards,  when  a  quick  step  sounded 
behind  him,  and  he  was  addressed  in  tones  of  the 
most  conciliatory  politeness. 

"  Gammon — may  I  beg  one  word  ?  I  owe  you  an 
apology.  My  behaviour  last  night  was  quite  unjusti- 
fiable. I  can  only  explain  it  by  the  fact  that  I  had 
undergone  a  severe  trial  of  the  nerves ;  I  was  not 
myself.  May  I  hope,  my  dear  Gammon,  to  be  for- 
given ?     I  apologise  most  humbly — believe  me." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  replied  the  other  with  a 
grin,  "  I  hope  I  didn't  hurt  you?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,  it  would  have  served  me  right. 
But  no — just  a  few  trifling  bruises.  By-the-bye,  ouf 
friend  has  departed." 


248  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Dead— yes." 

"  Do  you  know,  Gammon,  I  think  we  ought  to 
have  a  quiet  talk.  You  and  I  have  common  inter- 
ests with  this  matter.  There  will  be  an  inquest,  you 
know,  and— the  fact  is,  I  think  "—he  spoke  very  con- 
fidentially—" it  might  be  as  well  for  us  both  if  we 
came  to  some  sort  of  mutual  understanding.  As 
things  have  turned  out,  we  are  victims  of  circum- 
stances. Might  I  suggest— with  all  deference— that 
we  should  dine  together  very  quietly?  I  know  a 
very  suitable  place.  It's  early  for  dinner,  but,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  have  had  no  particular  appetite  to- 
day ;  in  fact,  have  hardly  touched  food." 

Gammon  accepted  this  invitation  and  decided  to 
send  a  telegram  to  the  china-shop. 

Their  conference,  tentative  on  both  sides  for  the 
first  half  hour,  led  eventually  to  a  frank  disclosure 
of  all  that  was  in  their  minds  with  regard  to  Lord 
Polperro.  Each  possessed  of  knowledge  that  made 
him  formidable  to  the  other,  should  their  attitude 
be  one  of  mutual  hostility,  they  agreed,  in  Green- 
acre's  phrase,  to  "pool "  all  information,  and  then 
see  how  they  stood.  Herein,  Gammon  had  the  ad- 
vantage ;  he  learnt  much  more  than  it  was  in  his 
power  to  communicate;  for  whilst  Greenacre  had 
been  playing  a  deliberate  game,  the  man  of  com- 
merce had  become  possessed  of  secrets  only  by 
chance — which  his  friends  naturally  could  not 
believe. 

Greenacre  had  been  to  Ireland  on  the  track  of  a 


HIS    LORDSHIP    RETIRES  249 

woman  whom  Lord  Polperro  had  lost  sight  of  for 
some  five-and-twenty  years  ;  he  had  obtained  satis- 
factory evidence  that  this  woman  was  dead ;  a 
matter  of  some  moment,  seeing  that,  if  still  alive, 
she  would  have  been  his  lordship's  wife.  The  date 
of  her  death  was  seven  years  and  a  few  months  ago. 

"By  jorrocks  !  "  cried  the  listener  at  this  point, 
greatly  disturbed.  "  Then  Mrs.  Clover — as  we  call 
her — wasn't  really  his  wife  at  all  ?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  she  was  not,"  replied  Green- 
acre,  with  proper  solemnity.  "  I  grieve  to  tell  you 
that  jOur  deceased  friend  committed  bigamy.  Our 
deceased  friend  was  a  most  peculiar  man.  I  can't 
say  that  I  approve  of  his  life — viewed  as  a  whole." 

Then  came  Gammon's  disclosure  about  the  burn- 
ing of  the  will,  and  about  Lord  Polperro's  intention 
to  see  his  solicitor.     Greenacre  smiled  grimly. 

"  If  I  may  make  a  personal  remark,  Gammon," 
he  said,  in  measured  tones,  "  I  will  confess  that  / 
should  never  have  allowed  the  destruction  of  that 
document.  You,  my  friend,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
had  a  still  greater  interest  in  preventing  it.  That 
will  provided  very  handsomely  for  Mrs.  Clover,  for 
Miss  Clover,  and — I  may  say  liberally — for  a  young 
lady  named  Miss  Sparkes." 

He  smiled  more  grimly  than  ever.  Gammon 
drew  in  his  breath  and  refrained  from  speech. 

"  Of  course  I  understand  his  motives,"  pursued 
Greenacre.  "  They  were  prudent,  no  doubt,  and 
well  meaning.     He  did  not  foresee  that  there  would 


250  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

be  no  opportunity  for  that  interview  with  his 
solicitor." 

"  Look  here,  Greenacre.  I  want  to  know  how 
you  found  out  first  of  all  that  he'd  married  twice." 

"  Very  simply.  I  took  it  lor  £-r anted  that  he  had. 
I  am  a  student,  as  you  know,  of  genealogy ;  also  of 
human  nature  in  general.  In  my  first  interview 
with  Lord  Polperro,  I  let  fall  a  word  or  two  which 
obviously  alarmed  him.  That  was  quite  enough. 
In  his  singular  state  of  mind,  he  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion that,  as  they  say  on  the  stage,  I  knew  every- 
thing ;  and  of  course,  I  very  soon  did.  As  much, 
that  is  to  say,  as  he  himself  knew.  He  married,  at 
two-and-twenty,  a  young  girl  whom  he  met  in 
Ireland;  married  her  in  his  right  name — Trefoyle 
(not  Clover) — and  they  travelled  together  for  a  year 
or  two.  Then  somehow  they  parted,  and  never  saw 
or  heard  of  each  other  again.  No,  there  was  no 
child.  I  had  little  difificulty  in  persuading  his  lord- 
ship to  let  me  investigate  this  matter  for  him  ;  I  did 
it  with  complete  success.  The  girl  belonged  to  a 
peasant  family,  I  may  tell  you  ;  she  led,  on  the 
whole,  a  decidedly  adventurous  life,  and  died  sud- 
denly on  a  ship  in  which  she  was  returning  to  the  old 
country  from  America.  I  gather  that  she  never  knew 
of  her  husband's  aristocratic  connexion.  Of  course 
I  was  discretion  itself  whilst  making  these  inquiries, 
and  I  feel  pretty  sure  that  no  claim  will  ever  be 
made  from  t/tat  quarter — the  present  family — on 
our  friend's  estate." 


HIS    LORDSHIP    RETIRES  2$! 

"  Why,  then,"  exclaimed  Gammon,  "  what  is  to 
prevent  Mrs.  Clover  from  coming  forward  ?  She 
knows  nothing  ;  she  needn't  ever  hear  a  word." 

"  Gammon,  you  surprise  me.  Clearly  you  haven't 
the  legal  mind.  How  could  you  reconcile  yourself 
to  stand  by  whilst  the  law  of  your  country  was  so 
grossly  defeated  ?  " 

"Humbug!  Don't  use  such  long  words,  old 
chap.  But  perhaps  Polperro's  family  knew  of  the 
marriage  ?  " 

"They  did  not,  I  can  assure  you.  Our  friend 
was  the  kind  of  man  who  doesn't  like  the  class  in 
which  he  was  born  ;  he  preferred  a  humbler  station. 
He  was  never  on  very  good  terms  with  his  rela- 
tives." 

"  Well  then.  Gammon  persisted,  "  who  is  to  let 
them  know  that  Mrs.  Clover  wasn't  the  real  wife? 
Hanged  if  I  see  why  she  shouldn't  come  for- 
ward !  " 

"  My  friend,"  replied  Greenacre,  smiling  gently, 
*'  it  will  be  m}'  privilege  to  make  known  all  the  facts 
of  this  case  to  the  Honourable  Miss  Trefoyle,  his 
lordship's  nearest  surviving  relative." 

"What?" 

"  I  regard  it  as  a  simple  duty.  I  cannot  even 
argue  the  subject,  Gammon,  if  j'oti  have  no  con- 
science /have." 

Gammon  sat  pondering,  until  light  began  to  break 
upon  him.  The  other,  meanwhile,  watched  his 
countenance. 


252  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"I  see,"  he  said  at  length  bluntly.  "You  think 
it'll  do  you  more  good  to  take  that  side.     I  see." 

"  Gammon,  my  leanings  are  aristocratic.  They 
always  were.  It  puts  me  at  a  disadvantage,  some- 
times, in  our  democratic  society.  But  I  disregard 
that.  You  may  call  it  prejudice.  I,  for  my  part, 
prefer  to  call  it  principle.  I  take  my  stand,  always 
on  the  side  of  birth  and  position.  When  you  have 
thought  about  it,  I  am  sure  you  will  forgive  this 
weakness  in  me.  It  need  not  affect  our  friend- 
ship." 

"  Wait  a  bit.  There's  another  question  I  want 
to  ask.  What  had  Lord  Polperro  to  do  with  the 
Quodlings?" 

" The  Quodlings?  Ah  !  I  grieve  to  tell  you  that 
Francis  Quodling,  an  illegitimate  half-brother  of 
our  friend,  had  of  late  given  trouble  to  his  lordship. 
Francis  Quodling  has  long  been  in  Queer  Street ; 
he  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  a  claim — a  natural 
claim,  I  might  say — on  Lord  Polperro.  When  you 
first  met  his  lordship  he  had  been  seeing  the  other 
Quodling  on  this  matter.  Pure  kindness  of  heart — 
he  was  very  kind-hearted.  He  wanted  to  heal  a 
breach  between  the  brothers,  and,  if  possible,  to  get 
Francis  a  partnership  in  the  firm — your  firm.  I 
fear  he  exerted  himself  vainly." 

"  Greenacre !  "  exclaimed  the  man  of  commerce, 
thumping  the  table,  "  it's  beastly  hard  lines  that 
that  woman  and  her  daughter  shouldn't  have  a 
penny ! " 


HIS   LORDSHIP    RETIRES  253 

**  I  agree  with  you.  By  the  bye,  you  have  told 
her?" 

"  Yes,  this  morning." 

"  Gammon,  you  are  so  impulsive.  Still,  I  sup- 
pose she  had  to  know.  Yes,  I  suppose  it  was  in- 
evitable. Will  she  molest  his  relatives  do  you 
think?" 

"She?"  Gammon  reflected.  "  I  can't  quite  see 
her  doing  it.  She  may  be  a  bit  angry,  but — no,  I 
don't  think  she'll  bother  anybody.  I  can't  see  her 
doing  it." 

And  still  he  meditated. 

"  You  reserve  to  yourself,  I  presume,  the  duty  of 
acquainting  her  with  these  painful  facts  ?  " 

"  Me  tell  her  ? — why,  I  suppose  I  must  if  it  comes 
to  that.  But — I'm  hanged  if  I  shall  enjoy  it.  Who 
else  knows?  Jorrocks !  there's  Polly.  I'd  for- 
gotten Polly ! " 

Gammon  grew  perplexed  in  mind  and  shadowed 
in  countenance.  Of  a  truth  Polly  Sparkes  had  not 
once  entered  his  mind  since  he  saw  her  yesterday. 
But  he  must  see  her  again,  and  that  to-night.  Whew ! 
He  would  now  have  given  a  substantial  sum  to 
deprive  Polly  of  the  knowledge  he  had  so  recklessly 
confided  to  her. 

"  You  are  impulsive,  my  friend,"  remarked  the 
other,  quietly  amused.  "  Impulsive  and  lacking  in 
foresight." 

"  And  you —  !  Never  mind  ;  I  won't  say  it. 
Still,  you  used  to   be    a  puzzle  to  me,  Greenacre ; 


254  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

now  I  feel  as  if  I  was  beginning  to  understand  you 
a  bit." 

The  man  of  foresight — he  was  remarkably  well- 
dressed  this  evening — watched  the  smoke  from  his 
cigarette  and  smiled. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   traveller's   FICKLENESS   AND   FRAUD. 

In  due  course,  a  coroner  and  his  jury  sat  on  the 
body  of  Lord  Polperro  ;  in  the  order  of  things,  this 
inquest  was  pubhcly  reported.  Readers  of  news- 
papers learnt  that  the  eccentric  nobleman,  though 
in  a  weak  state  of  health,  had  the  indiscretion  to 
mingle  with  a  crowd  on  New  Year's  Eve  ;  that  he 
either  accidentally  fell,  or  was  knocked  down  by  some 
person  unknown  in  the  rough-and-tumble  of  the 
hour  ;  in  short,  that  his  death  might  fairly  be  ac- 
counted for  by  misadventure.  The  results  of  the 
autopsy  were  not  made  known  in  detail,  but  a  pro- 
fessional whisper  went  about  that  among  the  causes 
contributory  to  Lord  Polperro's  death  were  :  con- 
gestion of  the  lungs,  softening  of  the  brain,  chronic 
inflammation  of  the  stomach,  drunkard's  liver,  and 
Bright's  disease  of  the  kidneys. 

The  unprofessional  persons  who  came  forward 
were  Mr.  Gammon,  Lord  Polperro's  housekeeper, 
and  Miss  Trefoyle.  The  name  of  Greenacre  was 
not  so  much  as  mentioned  ;  the  existence  of  a  lady 
named  Mrs.  Clover  remained  unknown  to  court  and 
public. 


256  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

On  the  following  day,  Mr.  Gammon  had  a  private 
interview  with  Miss  Trefoyle.  He  was  aware  that 
this  privilege  had  already  been  sought  by,  and 
granted  to,  Mr.  Greenacre ;  and  as  his  one  great 
object  was  to  avert  shame  and  sorrow  from  his 
friends  at  Battersea  Park,  Gammon  acquitted  him- 
self with  entire  discretion  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  did  not 
allow  Miss  Trefoyle  to  suspect  that  there  had  been 
anything  between  him  and  her  brother  except  a 
sort  of  boon  companionship.  In  behaving  thus,  he 
knew  that  he  was  acting  as  Mrs.  Clover  most 
earnestly  desired.  Not  many  hours  before,  he  had 
discharged  what  he  felt  to  be  his  duty,  had  made 
known  to  Mrs.  Clover  the  facts  of  her  position,  and 
had  heard  the  unforgettable  accent  of  her  voice  as 
she  entreated  him  to  keep  this  secret.  That  there 
might  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  Greenacre's 
assertions  he  had  accompanied  that  gentleman  to 
Somerset  House,  and  had  perused  certain  entries 
in  the  registers  of  marriage  and  of  death  indicated 
to  him  by  an  official  forefinger ;  clearly,  then,  if  he 
and  Greenacre  kept  silence  it  would  never  become 
known  even  to  Polperro's  kinsfolk  that  his  lordship 
had  been  guilty  of  bigamy. 

Stay ;  one  other  person  knew  the  true  name  of 
Mrs.  Clover's  husband  ;  Polly  Sparkes.  "  Polly  be 
hanged  !  " — muttered  Mr.  Gammon. 

"When  is  the  wedding?"  Greenacre  inquired, 
casually  in  one  of  their  conversations. 

"  Wedding  ?    Whose  wedding  ? '  * 


THE   traveller's    FICKLENESS  257 

"  Why,  yours  ?  " 

Gammon's  face  darkened.  A  change  had  come 
about  in  his  emotions.  He  was  afraid  of  Polly ; 
he  was  weary  of  Polly  ;  he  heartily  wished  he  had 
never  seen  Polly's  face.  For  self-scrutiny  Gammon 
had  little  inclination  and  less  aptitude  ;  he  could 
not  have  explained  the  origin  and  progress  of  his 
nearer  relations  with  Miss  Sparkes.  Going  straight 
to  the  point,  like  a  man  of  business,  he  merely  knew 
that  he  had  made  a  condemnable  mistake,  and  the 
question  was  how  to  put  things  right. 

"  There's  one  bit  of  luck,"  he  remarked,  instead  of 
answering  the  inquiry.  "  She  isn't  on  speaking 
terms  with  her  aunt." 

"  I'm  rather  glad  to  hear  that.  But  do  you  think 
she'll  hold  out  against  her  curiosity  ?  " 

"  In  any  case,  she  won't  learn  anything  from  Mrs. 
Clover.     I'm  pretty  sure  of  that." 

"  I  can  only  hope  you're  right  about  Mrs.  Clover," 
said  Greenacre,  musingly.  *'  If  so,  she  must  be  a 
rather  uncommon  sort  of  woman  ;  especially — if 
you  will  excuse  the  remark — in  that  class." 

"  She  is,"  replied  Gammon,  with  noteworthy  em- 
phasis. "  I  don't  know  a  woman  like  her, — no  one 
like  her.  I  wouldn't  mind  betting  all  I  have  that 
she'll  never  speak  a  word,  as  long  as  she  lives,  about 
that  man.  She'll  never  tell  her  daughter.  Minnie 
will  suppose  that  her  father  turned  up  somehow 
just  for  a  few  hours  and  then  went  off  again  for 
good  and  all." 
14 


258  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  Remarkable  woman,"  murmured  Greenacre. 
**  It  saves  trouble  of  course." 

Possibly  he  was  reflecting  whether  it  might  be  to 
his  advantage  or  not  to  reveal  this  little  matter  in 
Stanhope  Gardens.  Perhaps  it  seemed  to  him  on  the 
whole  that  he  had  done  wisely  in  making  known  to 
Miss  Trefoyle  only  the  one  marriage  (which  she 
might  publish  or  not  as  her  conscience  dictated),  and 
that  his  store  of  private  knowledge  was  the  richer 
by  a  detail  he  might  or  might  not  some  day  utilize. 
For  Mr.  Greenacre  had  a  delicacy  of  his  own.  He 
did  not  merely  aim  at  sordid  profits.  In  avowing 
his  weakness  for  aristocratic  companionship,  he  told 
a  truth  which  explained  many  singularities  in  what 
would  otherwise  have  been  a  career  of  commonplace 
dishonesty. 

"  I  suppose  she  must  be  told,"  said  Gammon,  with 
bent  head,  "  Polly,  I  mean." 

"  Miss  Sparkes  is  a  young  lady  of  an  inquiring 
spirit.  She  will  want  to  know  why  she  does  not 
benefit  by  Lord  Polperro's  death." 

"  You  told  her  yourself  about  the  will,  remem- 
ber." 

"  I  did.  As  things  turn  out,  it  was  a  pity.  By 
the  bye,  I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  document. 
As  Cuthbertson  has  no  knowledge  of  it,  our  deceased 
friend  no  doubt  draughted  it  himself.  More  likely 
than  not  it  would  have  been  both  amusing  and 
profitable  to  the  lawyers — like  his  father's  in  the 
days  of  our  youth.     I  wonder  whether  he  called 


THE   traveller's    FICKLENESS  259 

Mrs.  Clover  his  wife  ?  We  shall  never  solve  all  these 
interesting  doubts." 

"  I  had  better  not  let  Polly  know  he  burnt  it," 
remarked  Gammon. 

"  Why,  no ;  I  shouldn't  advise  that,"  said  the 
other,  with  a  smile.  "  But  I  have  heard  that  mar- 
ried men — " 

"  Shut  up  !     I'm  not  going  to  marry  her." 

Driven  to  this  bold  declaration,  Gammon  at  once 
felt  such  great  relief  that  he  dared  everything. 

"Then  there'll  be  the  devil  to  pay,"  said  Green- 
agre. 

"  Wait  a  bit.  Of  course  I  shall  take  my  time 
about  breaking  off." 

"  Gammon,  I  am  surprised  and  shocked — not  for 
the  first  time — at  your  utter  want  of  principle." 

Each  caught  the  other's  eye.  The  muscles  of 
their  faces  relaxed  and  they  joined  in  a  mirthful 
peal. 

It  was  a  long  and  exciting  week  for  the  town 
traveller.  Greenacre,  always  on  the  lookout  for 
romance  in  common  life,  was  never  surprised  when 
he  discovered  it,  but  to  Gammon  it  came  with  such 
a  sense  of  novelty  that  he  had  much  ado  to  keep  a 
clear  head  for  everyday  affairs.  He  drove  about 
London  as  usual,  but  beset  with  fantastic  visions 
and  desires.  Not  only  was  Polly  quite  dismissed 
from  his  thoughts  (in  the  tender  sense)  but  he  found 
himself  constantly  occupied  with  the  image  of  Mrs. 
Clover,  heretofore  seldom  in  his  mind,  notwithstand- 


26o  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

ing  her  brightness  and  comeliness  and  the  friendship 
they  had  so  long  felt  for  each  other.  Minnie  he  had 
forgotten ;  the  mother  came  before  him  in  such  a 
new  light  that  he  could  hardly  believe  his  former 
wish  to  call  her  mother-in-law.  This  strange  emo- 
tion was  very  disturbing.  As  if  he  had  not  worry 
enough  already  ! 

Delicacy  kept  him  away  from  the  china-shop. 
He  knew  how  hard  it  must  be  for  the  poor  woman 
to  disguise  her  feelings  before  Minnie  and  other 
people.  Minnie,  to  be  sure,  would  understand  signs 
of  distress  as  a  result  of  her  father's  brief  reappear- 
ance ;  but  Mrs.  Clover's  position  was  no  less  lamen- 
table. He  wished  to  be  at  her  side,  endeavouring 
to  console  her.  Yet  as  likely  as  not  all  he  said  would 
give  her  more  pain  than  comfort. 

Ah !  But  there  was  a  woman !  Was  he  likely 
ever  to  meet  another  who  had  pluck  and  goodness 
and  self-respect  like  hers  ? — ^.Minnie  ?  Some  day  per- 
haps ;  being  her  mother's  daughter.  But  Minnie 
after  all  was  little  more  than  a  child.  And  he  could 
no  longer  think  of  her  in  the  old  way  ;  it  made  him 
uncomfortable  if  he  tried  to  do  so. 

Polly  ?    Ah,  Polly  !     Polly  be  hanged  ! 

He  had  an  appointment  with  her  for  this  evening. 
Not  at  the  theatre  door  ;  for  Polly  no  longer  went 
to  the  theatre.  Change  in  the  management  had  put 
an  end  to  her  pleasant  and  lucrative  evenings ;  she 
had  tried  in  vain  to  get  like  employment  at  other 
places.     In  a  letter  received  this  morning,  she  re- 


THE   traveller's   FICKLENESS  261 

marked  significantly  that  of  course  it  Wcis  not  worth 
while  to  take  up  any  other  pursuits  again.  It  could 
not  be  called  a  delightful  letter,  from  any  point  of 
view.  Polly  had  grown  tired  of  uniform  sweetness 
and  indulged  herself  in  phrases  of  an  acid  flavour. 
'  '*  Haven't  you  got  anything  yet  to  tell  me  about 
the  will  ?  If  I  don't  hear  anything  from  you  before 
long  I  shall  jolly  well  go  and  ask  somebody  else.  I 
believe  you  know  more  than  you  want  to  tell,  which 
I  call  it  shameful.  Mind  you  bring  some  news  to- 
night." 

They  met  at  six  o'clock  in  the  Lowther  Arcade  ; 
it  was  raining,  cold,  and  generally  comfortless.  By 
way  of  cheery  beginning,  Gammon  declared  that  he 
was  hungry  and  invited  Miss  Sparkes  to  eat  with 
him.  They  transferred  themselves  to  a  restaurant 
large  enough  to  allow  of  their  conversing  as  they 
chose  under  cover  of  many  noises.  Gammon  had  by 
this  time  made  up  his  mind  to  a  very  bold  step,  a 
strategem  so  audacious  that  assuredly  it  deserved  to 
succeed.  Only  despair  could  have  supplied  him  with 
such  a  suggestion,  and  with  the  nerve  requisite  for 
carrying  it  out. 

"  What  about  that  will?  "  asked  Polly,  as  soon  as 
they  were  seated  and  the  order  had  been  given. 

"There  is  no  will." 

This  answer,  and  the  carelessness  with  which  it 
was  uttered  took,  away  Polly's  breath.  She  glared, 
and  unconsciously  handled  a  table  knife  in  an  alarm- 
ing way. 


262  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  What  d'you  mean  ?     Who  are  you  kidding?" 

"  He's  left  no  will.  And  what's  more,  if  he  had, 
your  name  wouldn't  have  been  in  it,  old  girl." 

"  Oh  !  indeed  !  We'll  soon  see  about  that !  I'll  go 
straight  from  'ere  to  that  'ouse — see  if  I  don't !  I'll 
gee  his  sister  for  myself  this  very  night — so  there." 

"  Go  it,  Polly.  You're  welcome,  my  dear.  You'll 
wake  'em  up  in  Stanhope  Gardens." 

The  waiter  interrupted  their  colloquy.  Gammon 
began  to  eat  ;  Polly,  heeding  not  the  savoury  dish, 
kept  fierce  eyes  upon  him. 

"  What  d'you  mean  ?  Don't  go  stufifing  like  a  pig, 
but  listen  to  me,  and  tell  me  what  you're  up  to." 

"  You're  talking  about  Lord  P.  ain't  you  ?  "  asked 
Gammon  in  a  lower  voice. 

"  Course  I  am," 

"  And  you  think  he  was  your  uncle.  So  did  I 
till  a  few  days  ago.  Well,  Polly,  he  wasn't.  Lord  P. 
didn't  know  you  from  Adam,  nor  your  aunt  either." 

He  chuckled,  and  ate  voraciously.  The  artifice 
seemed  to  him  better  and  better ;  enjoyment  of  it 
gave  him  a  prodigious  appetite. 

"  If  you'll  get  on  with  your  eating,  I'll  tell  you 
about  it.  Do  you  remember  what  I  told  you  about 
the  fellow  Quodling  in  the  City  ?  Well,  listen  to 
this.  Lord  P.  had  another  brother  knocking  about — 
you  understand  ;  a  brother  like  Quodling,  who  had 
no  name  of  his  own.  And  this  brother,  Polly,  is 
your  uncle  Clover." 

Miss  Sparkes  did  not  fail  to  understand,  but  she 


THE   traveller's   FICKLENESS  263 

at  once  and  utterly  declined  to  credit  the  state- 
ment. 

"  You  mean  to  say  it  wasn't  Lord  P.  at  all  as  I 
met — as  I  saw  at  the  theatre?  " 

"  You  saw  his  illegitimate  brother,  your  uncle  ; 
"and  never  Lord  P.  at  all.  Now  just  listen.  This  fel- 
low who  called  himself  Clover  is  a  precious  rascal. 
We  don't  know  as  much  about  him  as  we'd  like  to, 
but  I  daresay  we  shall  find  out  more.  How  did  he 
come  to  be  sitting  with  those  ladies  in  the  theatre, 
you're  wanting  to  ask.  Simple  enough.  Knowing 
his  likeness  to  the  family  of  Lord  Polperro  he 
palmed  himself  off  on  them  as  a  distant  relative, 
just  come  back  from  the  Colonies ;  they  were  silly 
enough  to  make  things  soft  for  him.  He  seems  to 
have  got  money,  no  end  of  it,  out  of  Lord  P.  No 
doubt  he  was  jolly  frightened  when  you  spotted 
him,  and  you  know  how  he  met  you  once  or  twice 
and  tipped  you.  That's  the  story  of  your  Uncle 
Clover,  Polly." 

The  girl  was  impressed.  She  could  believe  any- 
thing ill  of  Mrs.  Clover's  husband.  Her  astonish- 
ment at  learning  that  he  was  a  lord  had  never  wholly 
subsided.  That  he  should  be  a  cunning  rascal  seemed 
vastly  more  probable. 

"But  what  about  that  letter  you  sent — eh?" 
pursued  Gammon  with  an  artful  look.  **  Didn't  you 
address  it  to  Lord  P.  himself  ? — So  you  did,  Polly. 
But  listen  to  this.  By  that  time  Lord  P.  and  his 
people  had  found  out  Clover's  little  game ;  never 


264  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

mind  how,  but  they  had.  You  remember  that  he 
wouldn't  come  again  to  meet  you  at  Lincoln's  Inn. 
Good  reason,  old  girl ;  he  had  had  to  make  himself 
scarce.  Lord  P.  had  set  a  useful  friend  of  his — that's 
Greenacre — to  look  into  Clover's  history.  Green- 
acre,  you  must  know,  is  a  private  detective."  He 
nodded  solemnly.  "  Well  now,  when  your  letter 
came  to  Lord  P.  he  showed  it  to  Greenacre,  and 
they  saw  at  once  that  it  couldn't  be  meant  for  him, 
but  no  doubt  was  meant  for  Clover.  '  I'll  see  to  this, 
said  Greenacre.  And  so  he  came  to  meet  us  that 
night." 

"  But  it  v^2s  yoii  told  me  he  was  Lord  P.,"  came 
from  the  listener. 

"I  did,  Polly.  Not  to  deceive  you,  my  dear; 
but  because  I  was  taken  in  myself.  I'd  found  what 
they  call  a  mare's  nest.  I  was  on  the  wrong  scent. 
I  take  all  the  blame  to  myself." 

"  But  why  did  Greenacre  go  on  with  us  like  that  ? 
Why  didn't  he  say  at  once  that  it  wasn't  Lord  P.  as 
had  met  me?  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  private  detectives  are  cautious 
chaps.  Greenacre  wanted  to  catch  Clover,  and 
didn't  care  to  go  talking  about  the  story  to  every- 
body. He  deceived  me,  Polly,  just  as  much  as 
you." 

She  had  begun  to  eat,  swallowing  a  mouthful  now 
and  then  mechanically,  the  look  of  resentful  suspicion 
still  on  her  face. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  ? "  pursued  her  com- 


THE   traveller's   FICKLENESS  265 

panion,  after  a  delicious  draught  of  lager  beer. 
"  Would  you  believe  that,  only  a  day  or  two  before 
Lord  P.'s  death,  the  fellow  Clover  went  to  your  aunt's 
house,  to  the  china-shop,  and  stayed  over  night  there ! 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  eh  ?  He  did.  Ask  Mrs. 
Clover.  He  went  there  to  hide,  and  to  get  money 
from  his  wife." 

This  detail  evidently  had  a  powerful  effect.  Polly 
ate  and  drank  and  ruminated,  one  eye  on  the 
speaker. 

"  I  got  to  know  of  that,"  went  on  the  wily  Gam- 
mon, and  I  told  Greenacre.  And  Greenacre  made 
me  tell  it  to  Lord  P.  himself.  And  that's  how 
I  came  to  be  with  Lord  P.  on  New  Year's  Eve ! 
Now  you've  got  it  all." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  asked  Polly  with 
ferocity. 

"  Ah,  why  ?  I  was  ashamed  to,  my  dear.  I 
couldn't  own  up  that  I'd  made  a  fool  of  myself  and 
you  too." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  he'd  been  at  my 
aunt's?" 

"  She  sent  for  me,  Polly ;  sent  for  me,  and  told 
me,  because  I  was  an  old  friend.  And  I  was  so 
riled  at  the  fellow  coming  and  going  in  that  way, 
that  I  spoke  to  Greenacre  about  it.  And  then 
Greenacre  told  me  how  things  were,  I  felt  a  fool,  I 
can  tell  you.  But  the  fact  is,  I  never  saw  two  men 
so  like  in  the  face  as  Clover  and  Lord  P." 

"  When  you  was  there — at  my  aunt's — did  you 


266  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

talk   about   me?"    asked  the   girl  with  a  peculiar 
awkwardness. 

"  Not  a  word,  I  swear !  We  were  too  much  taken 
up  with  the  other  business." 

For  a  minute  or  two  neither  spoke. 

"And  you  mean  to  say,"  burst  at  length  from 
Polly,  "  that  my  uncle's  still  alive  and  going  about  ?  " 

"  All  alive  and  kicking ;  not  a  doubt  of  it  ;  and 
Lord  P.  buried  at  Kensal  Green  ;  no  will  left  behind 
him  ;  and  all  his  property  going  to  the  next  of  kin, 
of  course. — Now  listen  here,  Polly.  I  want  to  tell 
you  that  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  have  a  letter 
from  Greenacre.  He  may  be  asking  you  to  meet 
him." 

"What  for?" 

"Just  to  have  a  talk  about  Clover— see?  He's 
still  after  Clover,  and  he  thinks  you  might  be  of  use 
to  him.  I  leave  it  to  you — understand  ?  You  can 
meet  him  if  you  like  ;  there's  no  harm.  He'll  tell 
you  all  the  story,  if  you  ask  him  nicely." 

On  this  idea,  which  had  occurred  to  him  in  the 
course  of  his  glowing  mendacity.  Gammon  acted 
as  soon  as  he  and  Polly  had  said  good-by.  He 
discovered  Greenacre,  who  no  longer  slept  at  the 
Bilboes,  but  in  a  house  of  like  cosiness  and  obscurity 
a  little  further  west  ;  told  him  of  the  brilliant  in- 
genuity  with  which  he  had  escaped  from  a  galling 
complication  ;  and  received  his  promise  of  assistance 
in  strengthening  the  plot.  Greenacre  wrote  to  Pollj 
that  very  night,  and  on  the  morrow  conversed  with 


THE   traveller's   FICKLENESS  267 

her,  emphasising  by  many  devices  the  secrecy  and 
importance  of  their  interview.  Would  Polly  engage 
to  give  him  the  benefit  of  her  shrewdness,  her  knowl- 
edge of  life,  in  his  search  for  the  man  Clover?  His 
air  of  professional  eagerness,  his  nods,  winks  and 
flattery,  so  wrought  upon  the  girl  that  she  ceased  to 
harbour  suspicion  ;  her  primitive  mind,  much  fed  on 
penny  fiction,  accepted  all  she  was  told,  and  in  the 
consciousness  of  secret  knowledge  affecting  lords 
and  ladies,  she  gave  up  without  a  sigh  the  air-drawn 
vision  of  being  herself  actually  a  member  of  an  aris- 
tocratic family. 

At  the  same  time  she  thought  of  Gammon  with 
disappointment,  with  vague  irritation,  and  began 
all  but  to  wish  that  she  had  never  weakly  pardoned 
him  for  his  insulting  violence  at  Mrs.  Bubb's. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   MISSING  WORD 

Just  at  this  time,  the  inhabitants  of  England — 
one  might  say  of  the  British  Isles — but  more  espe- 
cially those  privileged  to  dwell  in  London  and  its  sub- 
urbs, submitted  to  one  of  the  waves  of  intellectual 
excitement,  which,  as  is  well  known,  are  wont  at  in- 
tervals to  pass  over  this  fervidly  imaginative  people. 
Some  representative  person — ingenious,  philosophic 
and  ardent  for  the  public  good — had  conceived  in 
a  bright  moment  a  thought  destined  to  stir  with  zeal 
the  pensive  leisure  of  millions.  This  genius  owned, 
or  edited,  a  weekly  paper  already  dear  to  the  popu- 
lace ;  and  one  day  he  announced  in  its  columns  a 
species  of  lottery — ignoble  word  dignified  by  the 
use  here  made  of  it.  Readers — of  adequate  cul- 
ture— were  invited  to  exercise  their  learning  and 
their  wit  in  the  conjectural  completion  of  a  sentence 
— no  quotation,  but  an  original  apophthegm — where- 
of one  word  was  represented  by  a  blank.  Each  com- 
petitor sent,  together  with  the  fruit  of  his  eager  brain, 
a  small  sum  of  money,  and  the  brilliant  enthusiast 
who  at   the  earliest  moment  declared  the  missing 

word  reaped  as  guerdon  the  total  of  these  number- 
26S 


THE   MISSING  WORD  269 

less  remittances.  It  was  an  amusement  worthy  of 
our  time  ;  it  appealed  alike  to  the  villa  and  the 
humble  lodging,  encouraged  the  habit  of  literary  and 
logical  discussion,  gave  an  impulse  to  the  sale  of  dic- 
tionaries. High  and  low,  far  and  wide,  a  spirit  of 
noble  emulation  took  hold  upon  the  users  of  the 
English  tongue.  "  The  missing  word  " — from  every 
lip  fell  the  phrase  which  had  at  first  sounded  so 
mysteriously  ;  its  vogue  exceeded  that,  in  an  earlier 
time,  of  "  the  missing  link."  The  demand  for  post- 
age stamps  to  be  used  in  transmitting  the  entrance- 
fee  threatened  to  disorganize  that  branch  of  the 
public  service ;  sorting  clerks  and  letter-carriers, 
though  themselves  contributory,  grew  dismayed  at 
the  additional  labour  imposed  upon  them. 

Naturally  the  infection  was  caught  by  most  of  the 
lively  little  group  of  Londoners  in  whose  fortunes 
we  are  interested.  Mr.  Gammon  threw  himself 
with  mirthful  ardour  into  a  competition  which  might 
prove  so  lucrative.  Mr.  Greenacre  gave  part  of  his 
supple  mind  to  this  new  branch  of  detective  energy. 
The  newly-wedded  pair,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nibby,  ceased 
from  the  wrangling  that  follows  upon  a  honeymoon, 
and  incited  each  other  to  a  more  profitable  contest. 
The  Parish  household  devoted  every  possible  mo- 
ment with  native  earnestness  to  the  choice  and  the 
weighing  of  vocables.  Polly  Sparkes,  unable  to  get 
upon  the  track  of  her  missing  uncle,  abandoned  her 
fiery  intelligence  to  the  missing  word.  The  Cheese- 
man  couple,  Mrs.  Bubb,  nay,  even  Moggie  the  gen- 


270  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

eral,  dared  verbal  conjecture  and  risked  postage 
stamps.  Only  in  a  certain  china-shop  near  Batter- 
sea  Park  Road  was  the  tumult  unregarded  ;  for  Mrs. 
Clover  had  fallen  from  her  wonted  health,  her  happy 
temper,  and  Minnie  in  good  truth  cared  neither  for 
the  recreation  nor  the  dangled  prize. 

When  Gammon  and  Polly  met,  they  talked  no 
longer  of  Lord  Polperro  or  Uncle  Clover,  but  of 
words. 

"  I've  got  it  this  time,  Polly !     I  swear  I've  got 

it  !  — '  Undeserved  misfortune,  if  often  a to  the 

noble  mind, '  why,  it's  instigation,  of  course  !  " 

"  I  never  heard  the  word,"  declared  Polly,  "  I'm 
sending  in  stroked 

"  Stroke  ?  "     What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  What  do  I  mean  by  it  ?  Why,  what  they  want 
to  say  is,  that  *  Undeserved  misfortune  is  often  a 
blow  to  the  noble  mind  ' — don't  they  ?  But  blow 
can't  be  the  word,  'cause  everybody'd  get  it.  The 
dictionary  gives  stroke  for  bloiu,  and  I'm  sure  that's 
it." 

"  Rot  !  They  don't  mean  to  say  that  at  all  !  It 
ain't  a  blow  to  the  noble  mind  ;  it's  just  the  opposite 
— that's  what  tliey  mean." 

"  How  can  it  be  the  opposyte  ?  "  shrilled  Polly. 
"  Ain't  it  a  knock-down  if  you  get  what  you  don't 
deserve," 

"  I  tell  you  they  don't  mean  that.  Can't  you  un- 
derstand ?  Why,  it's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your 
face!" 


THE    MISSING   WORD  271 

"  Is  It !  "  retorted  Polly  with  indignation  "  If  I've 
got  d.  plain  nose,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  so  before  ? 
If  that's  your  way  of  talking  to  a  lady — " 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Polly  !     It's  a  saying,  ain't  it  ?  " 

And  they  parted,  as  usual,  in  dudgeon  on  both 
sides,  which  was  not  soothed  when  both  found  them- 
selves wrong  in  the  literary  contest.  For  the  miss- 
ing word  this  week,  discovered  by  an  East-End 
licensed  victualler,  \y2is pick-me-up. 

Public  opinion  found  fault  with  this  editorial 
English.  There  rose  a  general  murmur  ;  the  loftier 
spirits  demanded  a  purer  vocabulary  ;  the  multitude 
wanted  to  know  whether  that  licensed  victualler  real- 
ly existed.  All  looked  for  an  easy  word  next  week  ; 
easy  it  must  be,  this  time,  or  the  game  would  begin 
to  lose  its  rest.  When  the  new  number  went  forth 
in  its  myriads  of  copies,  and  was  snatched  from  street 
vendors,  stalls,  shops,  general  expectation  seemed  to 
be  justified. 

"  As  nations  grow  civilised,  they  give  more  and 
more  attention  to  " 

Every  man,  every  woman,  had  a  word  ready.  Mr. 
Greenacre  said  nothing,  but  hastily  wrote  down 
genealogy.  Gammon,  before  consulting  with  Polly 
Sparkes,  sent  off  his  postage  stamps  and  commerce. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parish  declared  in  one  shout  that  the 
word  could  only  be  hyjene. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Christopher,  who  was  in  the 
room.  "  That's  just  because  you're  always  thinking 
of  it." 


272  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

For  all  that,  as  he  went  to  business,  the  word 
hummed  in  his  head.  It  might  be  the  solution  after 
all ;  his  objection  originated  only  in  scorn  of  a  word 
so  familiar,  and  therefore,  he  had  thought  at  first,  so 
improbable.  But  really — the  more  he  thought  of 
it— 

In  his  pocket  he  carried  an  envelope,  already  ad- 
dressed, and  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  enfolding  stamps. 
Should  he  once  more  enter  the  lottery,  risk  the  price 
of  a  luncheon  ?  He  had  resolved  not  to  do  so,  but 
every  moment  the  temptation  gained  upon  him. 
"  Hyjene  "  By  the  bye,  how  did  one  spell  the  word? 
H-y — he  grew  uncertain  at  the  third  letter.  Misspell- 
ing, he  knew,  would  invalidate  his  chance ;  on  the 
other  hand,  he  must  post  as  soon  as  possible  ;  already 
thousands  of  answers  were  on  their  way  to  the  ofifice 
of  the  editor. 

He  was  sitting  in  a  London  Bridge  tram-car.  At 
its  next  stoppage  there  entered  a  staid  old  gentle- 
man with  whom  he  had  made  the  Cityward  journey 
for  years  ;  they  always  nodded  to  each  other ;  this 
morning  the  grave  senior  chanced  to  take  a  place  at 
his  side,  and  a  greeting  passed  between  them. 
Christopher  felt  a  sudden  impulse,  upon  which  he 
acted  before  timidity  and  other  obstacles  could  in- 
terfere. 

"  Would  you  tell  me,  sir,"  he  whispered,  "  the 
c'rect  spelling  of  hyjene — meaning  'ealthiness,  you 
know?" 

"  Why,  what  a  queer  thing  !  "  answered  his  neigh- 


THE    MISSING   WORP  273 

bour,  with  all  friendliness  "  I've  just  been  reading 
the  word  in  the  paper.     Here  it  is." 

He  folded  the  sheet  conveniently  for  Christopher's 
inspection  and  pointed. 

''  H-y-g-i-e-7t-e." 
^  Mr.  Parish  read  eagerly,  his  eyes  close  to  the  print, 
dreading  lest  he  should  forget. 

"  Thanks,  very  much,  sir.  I — a  friend  of  mine 
told  me  I  was  wrong.  I  knew  I  wasn't — thanks 
awfully !  " 

The  white-haired  man  smiled  approval  and  re- 
turned to  his  study  of  the  news.  Christopher  kept 
spelling  the  word  in  silence,  and  though  the  weather 
was  very  cold,  soon  perspired  under  the  dread  that 
he  had  got  a  letter  wrong.  At  St  George's  Church 
agitation  quite  overcame  him  ;  he  hurried  from  the 
car,  ran  into  a  by-street,  and  with  his  pocket  pencil 
wrote  on  the  blank  sheet  of  paper  "  Hygiene."  Yes, 
he  had  it  right.  It  looked  right.  Now  for  the 
nearest  letter-box. 

But  his  faith  in  "  Hygiene  "  had  arisen  to  such 
fervour  that  he  dreaded  the  delay  of  postal  delivery. 
Why  not  carry  the  letter  himself  to  the  editorial 
office,  which  was  at  no  very  great  distance  ?  He 
would,  even  though  it  made  him  late  at  Swettenham's 
And  he  began  to  run. 

Panting,  but  exultant,  he  delivered  his  answer  in 

the  national  competition,  thus  gaining  a  march  upon 

the  unhappy  multitudes  who  dwelt  far  away,  and 

whose  resource  and  energy  fell  short  of  his.     Then 
x8 


274  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

he  looked  at  the  time,  and  was  frightened  ;  he  would 
be  dreadfully  unpunctual  at  business  ;  Swettenham's 
might  meet  him  with  stern  rebuke.  There  was 
nothing  for  it ;  he  hailed  a  cab. 

Only  in  the  middle  of  the  morning  did  he  remember 
that  he  had  in  his  pocket  a  love-letter  to  Polly 
Sparkes,  which  he  had  meant  to  post  early.  He  had 
seen  Polly  a  few  days  ago,  and  suspected  that  she 
was  in  some  sort  of  trouble  and  difficulty,  possibly 
— though  she  denied  it — caused  by  her  want  of  em- 
ployment. Polly  declared  that  she  had  resources 
which  enabled  her  to  take  a  holiday.  Not  very  long 
ago  such  a  statement  would  have  racked  Christopher 
with  jealous  suspicions  ;  suspicious  he  was,  and  a 
little  uneasy,  but  not  to  the  point  of  mental  torture. 
The  letter  in  his  pocket  declared  that  he  could  never 
cease  to  love  Polly,  and  that  he  groaned  over  the 
poverty  which  condemned  him  to  idle  hopes ;  for 
all  that,  he  thought  much  less  of  her  just  now  than 
of  the  missing  word.  And  when,  in  the  luncheon 
hour,  he  posted  his  amorous  missive,  it  was  with  al- 
most a  careless  hand. 

On  this  same  day  it  happened  that  Mr.  Gammon, 
speeding  about  his  business  in  Messrs  Quodlings's 
neat  little  trap,  found  he  could  conveniently  stop 
for  a  mid-day  meal  somewhere  near  Battersea  Park 
Road.  The  boy  who  accompanied  him  took  the 
horse  to  bait,  and  Mr.  Gammon  presently  directed 
his  steps  to  the  little  china-shop. 

Mrs.  Clover  had  just  finished  dinner;  her  female 


THE    MISSING   WORD  275 

assistant  had  returned  into  the  shop,  and  by 
her  Gammon  sent  a  request  for  a  moment's  pri- 
vate conversation.  He  soon  entered  the  sitting- 
room. 

"  It's  strange  you  have  looked  in  to-day,"  said 
Mrs.  Clover,  with  the  dull  air  of  one  who  has  a 
headache.     "  I  wanted  to  see  you." 

"  I'm  very  glad." 

He  sat  down  at  a  distance  from  her  and  observed 
her  face.  This  was  a  new  habit  of  his  ;  he  saw  more, 
much  more,  than  he  had  been  wont  to  see,  in  the 
healthy,  sweet-tempered,  and  still  young  counte- 
nance ;  it's  present  languor  disturbed  him. 

"  What  was  it,  Mrs.  Clover?  "  he  asked  in  a  voice 
not  quite  like  his  own. 

"  Well,  I  wanted  to  speak  about  Polly.  Her 
father  has  been  here  asking  questions." 

Gammon  set  his  lips  almost  angrily. 

"  V/hat's  wrong?" 

"  I  don't  know  as  anything  is.  But — have  you 
heard  anything  about  her  going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Has  she  told  her  father  that  ?  "  he  asked,  with 
a  shuffle  of  his  feet. 

"  Not  in  plain  words.  But  she's  doing  nothing — 
except  roam  about  the  streets — and  she  won't  give 
any  straightforward  account  of  herself.  Now,  would 
you  mind  telling  me,  Mr.  Gammon,  whether" — her 
eyes  fell — "  I  mean,  if  you've  done  anything,  since 
that  night,  you  know,  to  make  her  offended  with 
you  t 


276  THE   TOWN    TRAVELLER 

"  Offended  ?  Not  that  I  know  of,"  was  his  prompt 
answer  with  genuine  surprise. 

Mrs.  Clover  watched  him,  and  seemed  not  dis- 
satisfied. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why  I  ask.  Sometime  ago,  she 
wrote  me  a  queer  letter.  It  said  she  was  going  to 
be  married — or  thought  about  it  ;  and  there  was 
something  I  couldn't  understand  abont you.  I  shall 
show  you  that  letter.     I  think  it's  only  right." 

She  withdrew  for  a  moment,  and  returned  with 
Polly's  abusive  epistle,  which  she  handed  to  her 
visitor.  Gammon  first  read  it,  then  looked  for  a 
date,  but  none  was  discernible. 

"  When  did  you  get  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Clover  could  not  mention  the  very  day,  and 
on  reflecting.  Gammon  felt  sure  that  Polly  must 
have  written  this  just  before  the  exciting  events 
which  threw  him  and  her  into  each  other's  arms. 
In  the  same  moment  he  recalled  Polly's  eagerness  to 
become  possessed  of  a  letter  she  had  posted  to  him 
— the  letter  he  was  not  to  open. 

"  You  may  well  say  it's  queer."  He  laughed  and 
laughed  again,  "  She  gives  me  a  nice  character,  eh  ? 
And  you've  been  wondering  what  I'd  done?  All 
I've  got  to  say  is,  that  it's  a  blessed  lie,  from  begin* 
ning  to  end.     But  perhaps  you  won't  believe  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  believe  you  if  you  tell  me  plain  and 
straight  that  you  hadn't  done  anything  wrong — • 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"  Well  then,  I  do  tell  you  that.     I  never  gave  her 


THE    MISSING   WORD  277 

the  least  cause  to  speak  of  me  in  that  way.     It's  all 
lies." 

"  I  more  than  half  thought  it  was." 

Mrs.  Clover  heaved  a  sigh  and  looked  more  cheer- 
ful. 

-  "  And  what,"  she  added,  "  does  she  mean  about 
marrying  a  gentleman." 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

Again  he  laughed — laughed  like  a  man  enjoying 
sudden  relief  of  mind. 

"  More  than  I  can  tell  you,  Mrs.  Clover.  But  I'll 
see  if  I  can't  find  out ;  indeed  I  will.  Her  friends 
the  Nibby's  may  be  able  to  tell  me  something. — 
Have  you  asked  her  to  come  and  see  you  ?  " 

"  No.  For  one  thing,  I  don't  know  the  address, 
and  after  a  letter  like  this — " 

"  Quite  right.  Leave  it  to  me."  He  bent  his 
head,  hesitated,  and  added  quietly,  "  I  may  have 
something  to  tell  you." 

Thereupon  they  parted,  and  Mrs.  Clover  felt  her 
head  so  much  better  that  she  was  able  to  attend  to 
business. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A  DOUBLE   EVENT 

With  clang  and  twang  the  orchestra  (a  music  hall 
orchestra)  summoned  to  hilarity  an  audience  of  the 
first  half  hour  ;  stragglers  at  various  prices,  but  all 
alike  in  their  manifest  subdual  by  a  cold  atmosphere, 
a  dull  illumination,  empty  seats  and  inferior  singers 
put  on  for  the  early  "  turns  "  a  striking  of  matches 
to  kindle  pipe  or  cigar  ;  a  thudding  of  heavy  boots  ; 
a  clink  of  glass  or  pewter  and  a  waiter's  spiritless 
refrain. — "  Any  orders,  gents  ?  "  Things  would  be 
better  presently.  In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Gammon 
was  content  to  have  found  a  place  where  he  could 
talk  with  Polly  sheltered  from  the  January  night  at 
small  expense.  He  sipped  thoughtfully  from  a 
tumbler  of  right  Scotch  ;  he  glanced  cautiously  at  his 
companion,  who  seemed  very  much  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  hour.  Polly,  in  fact,  had  hardly 
spoken.  Her  winter  costume  could  not  compare  in 
freshness  and  splendour  with  that  which  had 
soothed  her  soul  through  the  bygone  sunny  season  ; 
to  tell  the  truth  she  was  all  but  shabby.  But  Gam- 
mon had  no  eye  for  this.  He  was  trying  to  read 
278 


A   DOUBLE    EVENT  279 

Polly's  thoughts,  and  wondering  how  she  could  take 
what  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  tell  her. 

"  I  saw  your  aunt  yesterday." 

"You  did?" 

"  Yes,  I  did.  She  was  telling  me  about  a  letter 
she  had  from  you  some  time  ago — the  last  letter 
you  wrote  her." 

Their  eyes  met  ;  Miss  Sparkes  was  defiant,  on  her 
guard,  but  not  wholly  courageous  ;  Gammon  twinkled 
a  mocking  smile,  and  held  himself  ready  for  what- 
ever might  come. 

"  She  shows  you  people's  letters  does  she  ?  "  said 
Polly,  with  a  sneer. 

"  This  one  she  did.  Good  reason.  It  was  funny 
reading,  old  girl.  That's  your  opinion  of  me,  is 
it  ?  Do  you  mind  telling  me  who  the  gentleman 
is — the  real  gentleman — you  think  of  taking  up 
with  ?  " 

Gammon  could  not  strike  a  really  ungenerous 
note.  He  had  meant  to  be  severe,  but  did  not 
get  beyond  sly  banter. 

"  She's  a  cat  for  showing  it  to  you  !  "  replied  Miss 
Sparkes.  "  That  was  wrote  before  we — you  know 
what.  It  was  after  you'd  took  your  'ook  that 
Sunday  on  the  Embankment.  I  didn't  mean  it ;  I 
was  a  bit  cross.  I'll  pay  her  out  some  day  for  this, 
see  if  I  don't." 

Much  more  did  Polly  say,  the  gist  of  it  all  being 
an  evident  desire  to  soothe  her  companion's  feel- 
ings.    Gammon  found  himself  in  an  unexpected  and 


28o  THE  TOWN   TRAVELLER 

awkward  position.  He  had  taken  for  granted  an 
outbreak  of  violence ;  he  had  counted  upon  the 
opportunity  of  mutual  invective  ;  he  wished  to  tell 
Polly  to  go — further.  In  the  face  of  such  singular 
mildness  he  was  at  a  loss  for  weapons.  Mere  bru- 
tality would  soon  have  settled  the  matter,  but  of 
that  Mr.  Gammon  was  incapable.  At  this  juncture, 
too,  as  if  in  support  of  Polly's  claim  to  indulgence, 
a  strain  irresistible  by  heart  of  man,  preluded  a  song 
of  the  affections  ;  Gammon  began  to  understand 
what  a  mistake  it  was  to  have  brought  Polly  to  a 
music-hall  for  the  purpose  of  breaking  with  her. 
Under  cover  of  the  languishing  lyric,  Miss  Sparkes 
put  her  head  nearer  to  him. 

"What  am  I  to  do,  eh?" 

"To  do?" 

"  I  cawn't  go  on  like  this.  Do  you  want  me  to 
get  another  job  somewhere  ?  I  sh'd  think  you 
might  see  I  cawn't  wear  this  jacket  much  longer." 

The  crisis  was  dreadful.  Gammon  clutched  at 
the  only  possible  method  of  appeasing  his  conscience, 
and,  postponing  decisive  words,  he  took  Polly's  hand 
— poorly  gloved — and  secretly  pressed  the  palm 
with  a  coin,  which  Polly  in  less  than  a  clock-tick 
ascertained  to  be  one  pound  sterling.     She  smiled. 

"What's  that  for?" 

"  For — for  the  present." 

And  in  this  way  another  evening  went  by,  leaving 
things  as  before. 

"  I'd  never  have  believed  I  was  such  a  fool,"  said 


A   DOUBLE   EVENT  281 

Gammon  to  himself  at  a  late  hour.  He  meant,  of 
course  that  experience  was  teaching  him,  for  the 
first  time,  the  force  of  a  moral  obligation  which,  as 
theorist,  he  had  always  held  mere  matter  for  joke. 
He  by  no  means  prided  himself  on  this  newly  ac- 
quired perception  ;  he  saw  it  only  as  an  obstacle  to 
business-like  behaviour.  But  it  was  there,  and — by 
jorrocks !  the  outlook  began  to  alarm  him. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Greenacre  was  pursuing  a  laud- 
able object.  Greatly  pleased  at  the  dexterity  with 
which  Miss  Sparkes  had  been  hoodwinked  in  the 
matter  of  Lord  Polperro  and  her  uncle  Clover,  he 
determined  to  set  all  at  rest  in  that  direction  by 
making  Polly  believe  that  Mr.  Clover,  her  uncle 
himself  as  distinct  from  Lord  Polperro,  was  also 
dead  and  gone  and  done  for.  Gammon  knew  of  the 
design  and  strongly  favoured  it  ;  for  he  was  annoyed 
by  Mrs.  Clover's  false  position ;  he  wished  her  to 
be  proclaimed  a  widow,  without  the  necessity  of 
disagreeable  revelations. 

An  exciting  postcard  brought  about  one  more 
interview  between  Miss  Sparkes  and  the  so-called 
private  detective.  They  met  in  a  spot  chosen  for 
its  impressiveness,  the  City  office  of  a  great  line  of 
Ocean  steamers.  When  Polly  had  with  some  dif- 
ficulty discovered  the  place  and  entered  shyly,  she 
was  met  by  Greenacre,  who  at  once  drew  her  aside 
and  began  talking  in  a  whisper,  with  much  show  of 
worry  and  perturbation.  In  his  hand  rustled  a 
printed  form,  with  a  few  words  in  pencil ! 


282  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

"  It's  all  over,  Miss  Sparkes.  We  have  no  more 
hope.  This  last  cable  settles  it.  Don't  let  me 
agitate  you.  But  I  thought  it  best  that  you  should 
come  here,  and  see  the  cable  for  yourself.  Sinking 
his  voice  and  with  his  lips  at  her  ear,  he  added, 
"  Your  uncle  is  dead." 

Polly  was  not  overcome. 

"  Is  it  reely  him  this  time  ?  " 

"  Clover— not  a  doubt  of  it.  I  got  on  his  track, 
but  too  late  ;  he  was  off  to  South  Africa.  Here  is  a 
cable  from  the  Cape.  He  died  at  sea — some  obscure 
disease — probably  an  affection  of  the  heart — and  was 
buried  off  the  west  coast.  Read  it  for  yourself. 
'  Clover,  second  cabin  passenger,  died  and  buried  23. 
4.S.-8.  2.W.  Effects  await  instructions.'  There  he 
lies,  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  poor  fellow.  This  is 
only  a  confirmatory  cable.  I  have  spent  lots  of  money 
in  learning  particulars.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to 
see  one  of  the  officials  about  it,  Miss  Sparkes  ?  Un- 
fortunately, they  can  only  repeat  what  I  have  told 
you." 

Polly  had  no  desire  to  hold  converse  with  those 
gentlemen  ;  she  was  thoroughly  awed,  and  convinced 
by  Greenacre's  tones  and  the  atmosphere  of  the 
office. 

"  I  have  already  communicated  with  your  aunt. 
I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  go  and  see  her." 

But  neither  for  this  had  Polly  any  present  in- 
clination. She  wanted  to  be  alone,  and  to  reflect. 
Having  made  sure  that  she  was  not  likely  to  visit 


A   DOUBLE    EVENT  283 

Mrs.  Clover  forthwith,  Greenacre  took  his  leave, 
blending  a  decent  melancholy  with  the  air  of  im- 
portance and  hurry  proper  to  a  man  involved  in  so 
much  business. 

This  week  she  had  not  entered  for  the  missing- 
word  competition,  and  as  few  things  interested  Polly 
in  which  she  had  no  personal  concern,  the  morning 
on  which  the  result  was  published  found  her  in  her 
ordinary  frame  of  mind.  She  was  thinking  of 
Gammon  ;  determined  to  hold  him  to  his  engage- 
ment, but  more  out  of  obstinacy  than  in  obedience 
to  the  dictates  of  her  heart,  which  had  of  late  grown 
decidedly  less  fervid.  Gammon  could  keep  her 
respectably  ;  he  would  make  a  very  presentable 
husband  ;  she  did  not  fear  ill-treatment  from  him. 
On  the  other  hand,  she  felt  only  too  certain  that  he 
would  be  the  stronger.  When  it  came  to  a  struggle 
(the  inevitable  result  of  marriage  in  Polly's  mind) 
Gammon  was  not  the  man  to  give  in.  She  re- 
membered the  battle  at  Mrs.  Bubb's.  All  very  well, 
that  kind  of  thing,  in  days  of  courtship,  but  after 
marriage — no  !  Some  girls  might  be  willing  to  find 
their  master ;  Polly  had  always  meant  to  rule,  and 
that  undisputedly. 

Breakfasting  in  her  bedroom  at  ten  o'clock,  she 
was  surprised  by  the  receipt  of  a  telegram.  It  came 
from  Christopher  Parish,  and  ran  thus : 

"  Great  news.  Do  meet  me  at  entrance  to  Liver- 
pool Street  Station  one  o'clock.     Wonderful  news." 


284  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

What  this  news  could  be  puzzled  her  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  she  remembered  that  Mr.  Parish  had 
spoken  of  a  possible  "  rise  "  at  Swettenham's  early  in 
the  New  Year.  That  must  be  it.  He  had  got  an 
increase  of  salary ;  perhaps  five  shillings  a  week 
more,  no  doubt. 

Would  that  make  any  difference  ?  Was  it  "  good 
enough  " — so  her  thoughts  phrased  the  anxious 
question. 

Regarding  Christopher,  one  thing  was  certain  ;  he 
would  be  her  very  humble  slave.  She  imagined  her- 
self his  wife;  she  pictured  him  inclining  to  revolt; 
she  saw  the  results  of  that  feeble  insubordination, 
and  laughed  aloud  !  Christopher  was  respectable  ; 
he  would,  undoubtedly,  continue  to  rise  at  Swetten- 
ham's ;  he  would  take  a  pride  in  the  magnificence 
of  her  costume.  When  her  temper  called  for  natu- 
ral relief,  she  could  quarrel  with  him  by  the  hour 
without  the  least  apprehension,  and  in  the  end 
would  graciously  forgive  him.  Yes,  there  was  much 
to  be  said  for  Christopher. 

A  little  before  one  o'clock  she  was  at  Liverpool 
Street,  sheltered  from  a  drizzle  that  brought  down 
all  the  smoke  of  myriad  chimneys.  A  slim  figure 
in  overcoat  and  shining  hat  rushed  through  the 
puddles  towards  her,  waving  an  umbrella  to  the 
peril  of  other  people  speeding  only  less  frantically. 

"  Polly  !— I've  got  it !  " 

He  could  gasp  no  more ;  he  seized  her  arm  as  if 
for  support. 


A  DOUBLE   EVENT  285 

•'  How  much  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  calmly. 

"  Three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  ! — Hyjene  I  " 

"  What — three  hundred  and  fifty  a  year  ?  " 

Christopher  stared  at  her. 

"  You  don't  understand.  The  missing  word  I've 
got  it  this  week !  Cheque  for  three  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds !     Hyjene  !  " 

"  Reely  !  " 

"  Look  here — here's  the  cheque !     Hyjene  !  " 

Polly  fingered  the  paper,  studied  the  inscription. 
All  the  time  she  was  thinking  that  this  sum  of 
money  would  furnish  a  house  in  a  style  vastly 
superior  to  that  of  Mrs.  Nibby.  Mrs.  Nibby  would 
go  black  in  the  face  with  envy,  hatred  and  malice  ' 
As  she  reflected,  Christopher  talked,  drawing  her 
to  the  least  frequented  part  of  the  huge  roaring 
railway  station. 

"  Will  you,  Polly  ?— Why  don't  you  speak  ?— Do, 
Polly,  do!" 

She  all  but  spoke,  would  have  done  so  but  for  an 
ear-rending  whistle  from  an  engine. 

"  I  shall  have  a  rise  too,  Polly.  I'm  feeling  my  feet 
at  Swettenham's.  Who  knows  what  I  may  get  to  ? 
Polly,  I  might — I  might  some  day  have  a  big  business 
of  my  own,  and — and  build  a  house  at  Eastbourne  ! 
It's  all  on  the  cards,  Polly.  Others  have  done  it 
before  me.  Swettenham  began  as  a  clerk — he  did  ! 
Think,  Polly,  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 
^Hyjene  I'' 


286  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

She  met  his  eye  ;  she  nodded. 

"  You  will?  " 

"  Don't  mind  if  I  do." 

**  Hooray  ! — Hyjene  for  ever !— Hooray-ay-ay !  ** 


-      •  CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   TRAVELLER   AT   REST 

Two  or  three  days  after  this,  Gammon  heard  un- 
expectedly from  Mrs.  Clover,  who  enclosed  for  his 
perusal  a  letter  she  had  just  received  from  Polly 
Sparkes.  What — she  asked — could  be  the  meaning 
of  Polly's  reference  to  her  deceased  uncle  ?  Was 
there  never  to  be  an  end  of  mysteries  and  miseries 
in  relation  to  that  unhappy  man  ? 

Turning  to  Polly's  scrawl  (which  contrasted  so 
strongly  with  Mrs.  Clover's  neat,  clear  hand)  Gam- 
mon discovered  the  passage  which  had  disturbed 
his  correspondent.  "  You  mustn't  expect  me  to  go 
into  black  for  your  husband,  for  uncle  I  won't  call 
him.  I  heard  about  him  coming  to  you  for  money, 
and  then  taking  his  hook,  because  detectives  was 
after  him.  A  nice  sort  of  man.  It's  a  pity  he  had 
to  be  buried  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  where  you 
can't  put  a  monniment  to  him,  as  I'm  sure  you  would 
like  to  do.  So  this  is  all  I  have  to  say,  and  I  shall 
not  trouble  you  again." 

Here  was  no  puzzle  for  Gammon,  who  had  ap- 
proved Greenacre's  scheme  for  finally  getting  rid  of 

287 


288  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

Mr.  Clover.  But  Polly's  letter  began  with  an  an- 
nouncement which  occasioned  him  the  greatest  sur- 
prise he  had  known  since  the  identification  of  Clover 
with  Lord  Polperro.  So  completely  did  it  engross 
and  confuse  his  mind,  that  not  until  some  quarter 
of  an  hour  elapsed  could  he  think  about  the  pas- 
sage quoted  above.  "  I  write  to  inform  you,"  began 
Miss  Sparkes — without  any  introductory  phrase — 
"  that  I  am  going  to  be  married  to  a  gentleman 
who  has  a  high  place  at  Swettenhams',  the  big  tea 
merchants,  and  his  name  is  Mr.  Parish.  He  has  won 
the  missing  word  which  is  three  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds,  and  which  every  penny  of  it  he  will  spend 
on  furniture  at  one  of  the  best  places.  You  shall 
have  one  of  our  cards  when  we  send  them  out,  though 
I  cannot  say  you  have  behaved  accordingly.  The 
reason  I  do  not  invite  you  to  the  wedding  is  be- 
cause Mr.  Parish's  friends  are  very  particular," 

After  reading  these  remarkable  lines  again  and 
again,  Mr.  Gammon  was  much  disposed  to  shout. 
But  something  restrained  him.  He  felt,  perhaps, 
that  shouting  would  be  inadequate,  or  even  inap- 
propriate. When  his  first  emotions  subsided  he 
went  quietly  forth  from  the  house  (it  was  evening) 
and  took  a  walk  about  the  adjacent  streets,  stop- 
ping at  a  stationer's  to  purchase  notepaper.  Re- 
turned to  his  room,  he  gently  whistled  an  old-fash- 
ioned melody  ;  his  face  passed  from  grave  thought- 
fulness  to  a  merry  smile.  Before  going  to  bed 
he  meant  to  write  a  letter,  but  there  was  no  hurry ; 


THE   TRAVELLER   AT    REST  289 

two  hours  had  to  pass  before  the  midnight  collec- 
tion. 

The  letter  was  brief,  lucid,  sensible.  He  ex- 
plained to  Mrs.  Clover  that  the  painfulness  and  dif- 
ficulty of  her  situation  since  Lord  Polperro's  death 
had  impelled  him  to  a  strange,  but  harmless  and 
justifiable  expedient  for  putting  her  affairs  in  order. 
He  made  known  the  nature  of  the  artifice,  which  "  for 
several  reasons  "  he  had  tried  in  the  first  instance 
upon  Polly  Sparkes — with  complete  success.  If 
Mrs.  Clover  took  his  advice,  she  would  straight- 
way go  into  moderate  mourning,  and  let  it  be  known 
that  her  husband  was  dead.  Reserve  as  to  details 
would  seem  strange  to  no  one ;  ordinary  acquaint- 
ances might  be  told  that  Mr.  Clover  had  died  abroad, 
friends  and  relatives  that  he  had  died  at  sea.  He 
hoped  she  would  not  be  offended  by  what  he  had 
done,  as  it  relieved  her  from  a  wretched  burden  of 
secrecy,  and  greatly  improved  the  position  of  her 
daughter.  Miss  Minnie.  She  need  not  reply  to  this 
letter,  unless  she  liked,  and  he  would  make  an  op- 
portunity of  calling  upon  her  before  very  long. 

A  week  passed  without  reply.  By  discreet  in- 
quiry Gammon  learnt  that  Mrs.  Clover  had  assumed 
the  garb  of  widowhood  and  this  was  quite  enough. 

"  There,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  there's  an  end  of 
lies!"  And  he  shook  his  shoulders,  as  if  to  get 
quite  clear  of  the  upleasant  entanglement.  For  Mr. 
Gammon,  though  ingenious  at  a  pinch,  had  no  natu- 
ral bent  towards  falsehood.  To  be  rid,  at  almost 
»9 


290  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

the  same  moment,  of  Mr.  Clover  and  Polly  Sparkes 
seemed  to  him  marvellous  good  luck,  and  in  these 
bitter,  sodden  days  of  the  early  year  he  was  lighter 
hearted  than  for  many  months. 
He  had  heard  from  Polly. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Gammon, 

"  I  don't  think  we  are  suited  to  each  other  which 
is  better  for  both  parties.  I  shall  send  you  a  wed- 
ding card  in  a  few  days  and  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  all 
happiness.     And  so  I  remain  with  my  best  respects, 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  Miss  Sparkes." 

This  time,  Mr.  Gammon  felt  no  restraint  upon 
his  mirth.  He  threw  his  head  back  and  roared 
joyously.  That  same  day  he  went  to  a  jeweller's 
and  purchased — for  more  than  he  could  afford — a 
suitable  trinket,  and  sent  it  with  a  well  meaning 
note  to  Polly's  address. 

Winter  brightened  into  spring,  spring  bloomed 
into  summer.  Gammon  had  paid  several  visits  to 
the  china-shop,  where  all  was  going  very  well  in- 
deed. Minnie  Clover  now  spent  her  evenings  al- 
most invariably  with  the  young  man  interested  in 
ceramic  art,  but  it  never  disturbed  Gammon  to 
have  ocular  evidence  of  the  fact.  With  Mrs.  Clover 
he  conversed  in  the  respectfully  familiar  tone  of  an 
old  friend,  now  and  then  reporting  little  matters 
which  concerned  his  own  welfare,  such  as  his  grow- 


THE   TRAVELLER   AT    REST  291 

ing  conviction  that  at  Quodlings'  he  had  found  a 
"  permanency,"  and  his  decision  to  go  no  more  to 
Dulwich,  to  sell  all  his  bow-wows,  to  find  another 
employment  for  leisure  hours. 

But  he  was  not  wholly  at  ease.  Time  after  time  he 
had  purposed  making  a  confession  to  Mrs.  Clover  ; 
time,  after  time  he  "  funked  it  " — his  own  mental 
phrase — and  put  it  off. 

He  grew  discontented  with  his  room  at  Mrs. 
Bubb's.  In  getting  up  these  bright  mornings,  he 
looked  with  entirely  new  distaste  upon  the  prospect 
from  his  window,  at  the  back.  Beneath  lay  parallel 
strips  of  ground,  divided  from  each  other  by  low 
walls ;  these  were  called  the  "  gardens  "  of  the  houses 
in  Kennington  Road,  but  no  blade  of  grass  ever 
showed  upon  the  black,  hard-trodden  soil.  Lank 
fowls  ran  about  among  discarded  furniture  and  in- 
describable rubbish,  or  children — few  as  well-tended 
as  Mrs.  Bubb's — played  and  squabbled  under  the 
dropping  soot.  Beyond  rose  a  huge  block  of  ten- 
ements, each  story  entered  from  an  external  platform, 
the  levels  connected  by  flights  of  iron  steps  ;  the 
lofty  roof,  used  as  a  drying-ground  by  the  female 
population,  was  surrounded  with  iron  railings.  Gam- 
mon had  hitherto  seen  nothing  disagreeable  in  this 
outlook,  nor  had  the  shrieks  and  curses  which  at 
night  too  frequently  sounded  from  the  huge  build- 
ing ever  troubled  his  repose.  But  he  was  growing 
fastidious.  He  thought  constantly  of  a  clean  little 
street  not  far  from  Battcrsea  Park — of  a  gleaming 


292  THE   TOWN   TRAVELLER 

china-shop — of  a  little  parlour  which  seemed  to  him 
the  perfection  of  comfort  and  elegance. 

Courage  and  opportunity  came  together.  He  sat 
alone  with  Mrs.  Clover  one  Sunday  evening,  and 
she  told  him  that  Minnie  was  to  be  married  in  six 
months'  time.  Gammon  bore  the  announcement  very 
well  indeed  ;  he  seemed  really  glad  to  hear  it.  Then 
his  countenance  became  troubled  ;  he  dropped  awk- 
ward sentences;  with  a  burst  of  honest  feeling, 
which  made  him  very  red,  he  at  length  plunged  into 
his  confession.  Not  a  little  astonished,  Mrs.  Clover 
learnt  all  that  had  passed  between  him  and  Polly 
Sparkes,  now  Polly  Parish.  Nothing  did  he  ex- 
tenuate, but  he  wronged  neither  Polly  nor  himself. 

"  There,  I've  got  it  out.  You  had  to  know. 
Thank  goodness  it's  over!  " 

"Why  did  you  tell  me?"  asked  Mrs.  Clover,  a 
flush  on  her  comely  face,  which  could  not  yet  smile, 
though  she  asked  the  question  with  a  suggestion  ol 
slyness. 

"  It  seemed  only  right — to  make  things  square, 
don't  you  see.  I  shall  know,  next  time  I  come,  how 
you've  taken  it.  And  perhaps  the  next  time  after 
that—" 

Mrs.  Clover  was  now  smiling,  and  so  gently,  so 
modestly,  that  Gammon  forgot  all  about  his  scheme 
for  a  gradual  approach.  He  began  to  talk  excitedly, 
and  talked  for  such  a  longtime  that  his  hostess,  who 
wished  him  to  disappear  before  Minnie's  return,  had 
at  length  to  drive  him  away. 


THE  TRAVELLER    AT    REST  293 

"  I  shall  certainly  keep  on  the  shop,"  were  her 
last  words  before  the  door  opened.  "  I've  got  used 
to  it,  and — it'll  keep  me  out  of  mischief." 

Her  merry  little  laugh  echoed  in  Gammon's  ears 
all  the  way  home,  and  for  hours  after.  And  when, 
a*  he  rose  next  morning,  he  looked  out  on  to  the 
strips  of  back  yard  and  the  towering  tenements,  they 
had  lost  all  their  ugliness. 

"  By  jorrocks  ! "  he  ejaculated,  after  gashing  his 
chin  with  the  razor.  "  I'll  send  Polly  a  handsome 
present  next  Christmas." 

THE  END, 


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